


Children of the Realm

by TiredMinds, ValiantMurder



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, Original Character(s), Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-14 16:27:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4571535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiredMinds/pseuds/TiredMinds, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValiantMurder/pseuds/ValiantMurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU spinoff of GRRM's A Song of Ice and Fire in which Rhaegar wins the war, the Mad King Aerys perishes in an incident with Wildfire and the Kingdom is at peace. This fiction follows the paths of two female original characters, Stannis Baratheon's eldest daughter Cassana and Robb Stark's twin sister Lyarra Stark of Winterfell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1. Cassana

**Author's Note:**

> Lyarra Stark's character concept belongs to ValiantMurder, and she will be writing Lyarra's chapters. Whilst Lyarra also features in different works, this is an AU in which both our original characters can co-exist.

It hadn't happened the way it was meant too. Her uncle, Robert Baratheon was supposed to triumph over the Dragon Prince and destroy the Targaryen dynasty. _If only the Gods had been merciful._

Robert Baratheon had perished at the battle on the Trident by the hand of the newly crowned king Rhaegar Targaryen. His late father, who had been dubbed _the Mad King,_ Aerys had died because of his insanity, set alight by wildfire with the thought of becoming a dragon at the forefront of his mind. His wounds had still been fresh when Rhaegar had been crowned without a proper coronation on the battlefield.

 _There had been no time,_ logic reasoned when Rhaegar had used his Valaryian steel sword to cut through Robert’s breastplate. It was rumoured that his last words had been that of Lyanna Stark.

Lyanna Stark; the girl who had ruined a kingdom by simply opening her legs, or heart, whichever had come first.

There had also been a baby, later the crowned prince Jon Targaryen, first of his name. It seemed Rhaegar had not stolen Lyanna over love, but to create another heir to make his country safe, although some said that the act alone had almost brought Dorne down upon Westeros. However _the dragon needed three heads._

After the war, Lyanna was permitted to return home to Winterfell with her brother Eddard Stark, but not before Lyanna had pleaded on her hands and knees for forgiveness on behalf of her brother and reasoned that her wrong doings had cost their family too much already. After all, the Lord of Winterfell, Rickard Stark, and his heir lord Brandon had both lost their lives because of her foolishness and it had been a sight that none present would ever be able to seer from their minds.

Rhaegar had forgiven Lyanna, and on Jon’s first name-day the Stark girl turned woman by the effects of war left the capital, and never did return.

Whether it was that Rhaegar favoured Lyanna or that he felt remorse over what his father had done, he never did say. Yet he freed the northern lords, the traitors and he asked that they all swear fealty to the new King of the Iron Throne. After this fealty was sworn, Rhaegar took the heirs of each; Renly Baratheon was first, and others soon followed, their heirs sent to Kings Landing to be raised in court, hostages of the crown to ensure good behaviour.

There had been peace throughout Westeros since Robert’s failed rebellion. Rhaegar’s reign was supported by the other noble Lord’s and he was loved by all the common people. His bravery and courage was the topic of many songs and poems and his alliance with the Tyrell’s was resilient.

For their loyalty through the rebellion, Rhaegar had his eldest child and heir Aegon promised to Lord Mace Tyrell’s only daughter Margaery.

Cassana had been living at court since she had been one and ten. She had been a frightened young fawn then, but over the four years of her time in Kings Landing, she had become quite the respectable lady, and she hoped her parents would be proud. Stannis Baratheon gave her no doubts when he visited court to see her on special occasions; namely her thirteenth name-day in which he had brought a horse from the Storm Lands as a gift. However, despite her father’s love Cassana never failed to note her mother’s absence on such occasions; Selyse Baratheon always seemed to have an excuse to stay away.

A part from her mother, she missed her younger sister Shireen terribly, the Queen Elia Martell and her daughter Rhaenys Targaryen had taken Cassana under their wing and nurtured her the way her mother never had or ever would, but they were not truly her family, nor would they ever be.

 _It is not a child’s fault_ Elia had told her when she had found Cassana in tears over one of her mother’s letters. Selyse was a hard woman – who had lost her first three sons’ before they were even brought into the world and despised her two girls for living when they had died. She was unable to provide her husband an heir, resulting in the prospect of Storms End being passed on to Stannis’s younger brother Renly, and his wife Jeyne from the house Westerling.

* * *

Cassana’s time in Kings Landing had not been a pleasant experience in those first few months, but with the arrival of a certain lord’s eldest son and heir, all of that seemed to change. Robb Stark had been a year or so older then her when he had arrived at Court.

The journey South had taken longer than was expected and he had arrived late. Perhaps that was why Cass had noticed him at all, with his auburn brown curls and Tully blue eyes like his mother. He had smiled at her, addressed her as “my lady” and that was when it all began for them. She had watched him from her window at first, dawn had barely come when he arrived alongside his father lord Eddard. Yet Cassana had not slept well since she had first arrived in the hot and sticky city, that night had been no exception. Perhaps she had imagined it, that Robb had looked up from his horse and seen her standing there, pale against the morning light in her window, but she liked to think that he had seen her, and that had been their first true meeting.

It hadn’t been long before the Stark heir had been introduced to court and begun finding his own feet. He got on with his cousin, Jon Targaryen, but like Jon, Robb found it hard to get along with Rhaegar’s younger brother Viserys. The older prince taunted Jon to no ends, to which Jon would ignore, only annoying his uncle further. Cassana had been watching them train one afternoon when prince Viserys had challenged Jon to a mock-duel, after that Viserys was a little less hostile, which Cassana supposed happened when one man knocks another into the dirt with a wooden sword.

Robb had watched the whole ordeal with a cool gaze, and when Cassana let out a stifled laugh his face turned to hers and he smiled at her; a true smile, not the one he showed to court, not a mask. They had begun to take walks after that, usually with some of the other heirs and hostages, but sometimes they were lucky, and they got sparse moments alone together. In these moments Cassana and Robb’s friendship began to truly grow, it wasn’t how Cassana had read it would be, falling in love that is. Apparently the knight or prince would save the Princess from some danger, but if she were to be honest with herself, it felt more like they saved one another.

It had been a cooler day – cooler for Kings Landing at least, and the Stark and Baratheon pair had been taking a walk in the gardens, it was there that they had seen Prince Aegon with his betrothed Margaery, walking side by side and whispering things to one another as though nobody else was around. Robb had looked down at Cassana and fixed her with a gaze that had made her cheeks burn red, and leaning down close he had whispered in her ear how that would be them one day.

* * *

Now, Cassana rose from her bed and bathed irritably, her maid combed her hair but she sent the woman away almost immediately after, determined to do her own hair today. Robb was to leave for Winterfell on the morrow, and Cassana had been dreading his departure since he had warned her of his upcoming absence. Having another person pull and pinch at her hair would only sour her mood further.

Over the four and a half years that the pair had spent in Kings landing together, hostages of court, the young Stark Lord and Baratheon Lady had grown close. Yet with this closeness came the uneasy natures of their goodbyes. Cassana grew anxious of whether or not Robb would go back to his home, to his family and decide not to return to Kings Landing; or more importantly, to _her_.

As the nature of their relationship was only for their knowledge, they were to say their formal goodbyes tomorrow morning at Court along with the rest of the nobles. However, as all who are young and in love, they took it upon themselves to find another way.

“I will miss you,” Robb whispered as he pressed his lips to Cassana’s forehead. He had Cassana in his arms and he decided long ago that this was where he liked to be; with her by his side, or better yet pressed against him. “Winterfell is my home, but my place is with you. Perhaps next time I go back to the North you will come with me-“

“Robb!” Cassana cut him off quickly, her eyes wandered away from his as though checking that they were still safe, still unheard. “You cannot talk like that. Not here. We do not know if-“

“What don’t we know? You’re going to be my wife and I am going to be your husband.” The Stark Lord almost laughed, but an uneasy thought came forward as he looked at Cassana, who would not meet his eye. “That is if you still want me?” he knew that question would catch her and secretly, he loved the little roll of her eyes whenever he asked.

“Of course I want you. It’s just my uncles’ rebellion started because of the strength of a Baratheon and Stark alliance. I do not think the King would ever allow us to marry.” Her voice grew small as she brought up old pains, pains that belonged not to Cassana, but her family name.

“Cassana Baratheon,” Robb started, looking into her deep blue eyes that almost matched his own, “when I asked you to marry me I meant it. I love you and we are going to marry with or without _Rhaegar Targaryen’s_ permission. Even if we have to cross the Narrow Sea and change our names; we will be together. I promise you.” He told her seriously.

Although she smiled, it still took Cass a long moment before she gave him her answer.

“You’re a foolish man Robb Stark. In a perfect world we could do that, but we need to do this the right way; for our families. Speak to your father and I’ll speak to the Queen. She’s always been kind to me and perhaps she could help us with persuading the King-”

She was cut off again with Robb’s lips. He reasoned that he could not get enough of her as he altered between kissing her lips and her neck. He heard her breath hitch and knew she enjoyed what he was doing as she pulled on his auburn curls. He pulled Cassana’s body against his own and rested his hands on her hips and lightly nipped on her collar bone.

“Robb,” he heard Cass plead.

He couldn’t tell if she pleaded for him to stop or to keep going, but he reasoned that if he copped a feel, then he would have his answer. This had earned him a whack around the head but when Cassana had kissed him goodbye, he knew that that kiss had been a silent promise; _soon._


	2. 2. Lyarra

Winterfell was alive with excitement. The children of the North ran unhindered through the Castle’s courtyard, making the maids scream as they were splashed with water from the summer rains as gangly legs ran through puddles and towards the gate. It was not a perfect place, nor was it always well-kept or cheerful, but Winterfell was home to the Stark children, to their Lord and to their history, as well as their future.

Among those that ran was one taller than the rest, and her path did not follow little legs and laughter, instead it ended in the stables where she almost knocked the stable boy on his arse.

“Hey!” The boy shouted in annoyance, but when his face fell upon the pale complexion of Lyarra Stark, Lady of Winterfell, his cheeks burnt red. His Lady met his annoyance with a knowing smile as she held out her hand to help him to his feet. “My Lady, I –“the boy stumbled, but Lyarra waved his words away.

“Sorry Arthur,” she replied instead before her eyes wandered down the stalls until they fell on a midnight stallion towards the end. “Has Beron been fed?” she asked then, with a raised eyebrow.

After finding that her favourite Northern horse had indeed been fed, Lyarra saddled him herself, ramming Arthur Poole with his shoulder playfully as he tried to help, and led the horse from his stall. In the courtyard nobody paid heed to Lyarra Stark mounting the horse – nobody save her Mother who watched from the balcony above. Catelyn Stark had stopped trying to change her daughter the day she had lost her son. The day Robb Stark had ridden for Kings Landing by command of the Targaryen King had changed her, she had six children, and in her heart she would never forget. Yet in Winterfell, only five remained; her five beautiful Northern children.

As though sensing her mother’s gaze, Lyarra looked up to see her upon the balcony. Lifting a gloved hand she waved cheerfully at her, to which her mother smiling and gave her a look of reproachfulness. A look Lyarra knew too well. Despite it, however, the girl gently encouraged her horse forward and together they left the gates of Winterfell.

It wasn’t long before the sound of galloping hooves caught up with them, and as she slowed Lyarra watched Jory Cassel, the head of the household guard, ride past her and then turn his mount around to face her.

“My Lady!” Jory sighed, as though he was out of breath. Lyarra lifted a hand and lazily brushed hair from her face before replying.

“My mother _knows_ I am gone, Jory. I wouldn’t have gone without her permission.” The word _permission_ was used lightly, and despite his frustration at being left behind, again, the man smiled at his lady. The wind had mussed her hair, but he could tell she had barely taken time to bathe this morning by the site of her damp hair and flustered cheeks.  “Besides” Lyarra added, “I haven’t seen Robb for a very long time, I don’t expect you to understand what it is like to be separated from your brother, your _twin_ brother for almost three years.”

“I admit I don’t,” Jory replied, his smile still softly placed on his lips. He watched as Lyarra looked him over, as though making sure that he wouldn’t try and make her return to Winterfell.

It took a fraction of a minute before Lyarra grinned back at Jory and the pair set off full pelt towards the Kingsroad where they would find the Stark travelling party, and with them, Lyarra’s father and brother.

It wasn’t long before the pair came across the party, Winterfell had already received ravens to alert Lady Stark that her husband was almost home. Despite knowing the North well, Lyarra knew her mother worried too deeply to let her travel too far from home. All of these thoughts vanished as a familiar figure came into sight. Up ahead Lord Eddard was the first one Lyarra recognized, her father’s dark hair and closely trimmed beard looked much the same it had a year prior, but to his left rode another figure.

The stocky figure sat tall and broad on his mount, atop his head was a mop of red-brown hair and as Lyarra got closer she could see that her twin looked very far away, as though deep in thought. For a moment her courage failed her, and she slowed her horse. When Jory looked over he did not need to speak to see that his lady was panicking, she had done it once before. _What if he_ _does not recognize me?_ She had asked Jory once before Robb had ridden back into Winterfell. _No man could forget your face my lady,_ the words had slipped free unwillingly, and Lyarra had looked back at her trusted friend and advisor with tears in her eyes and smiled the softest smile he swore he would ever see.

All of that doubt vanished in a second as Robb looked up and squinted against the daylight to catch sight of his twin sister. Her hair was blowing off her face, and her eyes were wide and vulnerable as her horse trotted towards them. He called out then, a two syllables that almost caught in his throat.

“Lya!” Robb swung off the side of his horse and he heard his father’s low laugh follow him in amusement. It had always been the same with the twins, they needed to embrace, to feel one another. It was only natural, after being stuck side by side for nine months in their mother’s womb.

Lyarra was quicker now, she hardly felt the hard earth meet her boots as she swung off Beron lightly. As soon as she was there, feet on the earth she began to run towards Robb, who in turn had begun to jog towards her.

The two collided with a fit of laughter and breathlessness, Robb swinging Lyarra off her feet and crushing her against his chest in affection. In turn Lyarra buried her face in Robb’s neck, not caring that he smelt like horses or sweat or dirt. She laughed into his neck and let her tears fall freely. When Robb finally pulled away he grabbed her face and looked at her, a few tears escaped the corners of his eyes but they too, were for happiness.

Resting their foreheads against the others the twins held each other for a long moment until Lyarra turned to her Father, his face overwhelming her after the time he too had spent away, after all, a daughter never stops needing her father.


	3. 3. Lyarra

Robb reasoned that they could probably be heard from Kings Landing to the Wall as they were so loud had they been shouting and growling at one another. Never had he been so close to hitting somebody as Robb was when fighting his twin Lyarra, who stood across from him with her hair mussed from riding all day and her breeches pulled up to her knees from where she had had to wade through a stream. It had been such a beautiful day, they had risen at dawn and been riding since, hunting and re-acquainting themselves once more.

The fight had begun when Robb had mentioned that next time he returned to Winterfell, he would be bringing home a wife. _A wife_ Lyarra had scoffed, as she had been checking Beron’s shoes at the time. Carefully she had released her horses hoof and it had all gone downhill from there.

“You cannot marry for love,” Lyarra had spat, “this isn’t one of Sansa’s novels, this is our _life_ Robb! Our family’s future!”

“Don’t I get a choice in my future?” Robb had shouted back at her, his brows furrowing in frustration.

“No!” Her hands had balled into fists. “Does Arya get a choice? Does Sansa? Do I? No! We will marry for the family, our family, just as Mother and Father have.”

“I would be marrying for the family as well, the Baratheon’s are a proud–“

“ _Baratheon’s?”_ The name sounded like poison as she hissed through her teeth, “They are _not_ proud, they are nothing but cowards since their idiot liege started a war over aunt Lyanna!”

The conversation went through the stages of the war, of the houses and how they acted, but neither gave ground. Lyarra was adamant that love grew in a marriage, that it was not born before it, and an alliance between Stark and Baratheon was only trouble; _just like the first time._

“It is not your choice,” Robb finished; his face red with annoyance and shame at the words they had both shouted at one another. Lyarra, standing a little closer now shared a similar expression of annoyance. “Who I do or do not marry is of no matter to you anyway. Soon you will leave Winterfell and…” he trailed off and Lyarra jutted her chin at him,

“And what?” she growled, her voice low now, hoarse from shouting. “I will leave Winterfell and what?”

“You’ll have no reason to bother _me_ anymore,” Robb hissed at her, to which he received a stinging blow across the face. He had expected her to slap him, but it seemed she had learnt to punch like a man whilst he was gone. He only stumbled a few feet, and was ready to fight back when he saw the briefest glimpse of her face, tears gathering on her cheeks as she turned away and went back to her horse.

She was gone before he could speak any words of apology or explanation. He almost didn’t feel guilty.

Lyarra knew the girl that Robb loved, even if he hadn’t spoken her name. She remembered her from a few years ago now, the closest thing Stannis Baratheon would ever have to an heir, and her name was Cassana. The name had stayed with Lyarra more so than the other ladies of court, perhaps it was because other members of court gossiped of her so frequently. The Stag and the Wolf, that’s what Robb’s romance with her had been dubbed by the world it seemed. Lyarra had not believed them, her brother was not some soft southern lord; he was northern, like her. He was her twin, weren’t they supposed to be the same?

As she rode away Lyarra tried to picture Cassana as she had last seen her, but all she could conjure up was blue eyes and black curls. Adding to her frustration Lyarra cast the girl away – it didn’t matter, Robb was right. Robb would marry her or some other lady like her, and Lyarra would be cast off to somebody else, another lord. Smalljon Umber seemed to be the most favourable; Lyarra had played with him as a child. They could grow to be fond of one another.

Before she knew it the darkness of night had come and with it the forest began to wake. Turning Beron Lyarra headed back towards Winterfell, her legs suddenly felt cold from where her wet breeches clung to the skin. By the time she reached the gates of Winterfell she had defiantly set her jaw to stop her teeth from chattering against the cool. Not to her surprise Jory was waiting outside the stables, when he saw her he moved towards her and lifted her from her mount.

“I don’t need your help,” Lyarra muttered as Jory handed Beron’s reigns to Arthur. Once the boy was gone Jory wrapped his cloak around her shoulders and the pair walked into the castle.

Jory watched as his lady walked with her chin high through the halls, despite looking like a mess the girls pride remained intact. Robb had arrived back at the castle earlier with a similar mussed hair and puffy-eyed look that his sister now wore. Before they reached the dining hall another pair of hands took Jory’s cloak off Lyarra’s shoulders and handed it back to the guard. Before the man could oppose he saw who he was looking at: Lady Lyanna.

Although she had aged Lyanna still wore her beauty well, her northern beauty that had almost skipped Eddard’s children. Jory nodded to her and left Lyarra in her aunts care, careful not to throw more than one glance back at the pair.

“What happened?” Lyanna asked her niece once she was naked in her tub. Carefully she combed out the girls auburn brown hair, and when Lyarra refused to speak, Lyanna gently rubbed her shoulders.

“Mmf” Lyarra complained, shrugging her shoulders away from her aunts relaxing touch.

“Stop being so stubborn,” Lyanna scolded, splashing water up onto her nieces face. “When I was your age Brandon and I would fight as well,” she added, her tone softer. The words undid Lyarra, whose eyes stung with tears as she remembered that her aunt had endured worse things than her brother’s honesty; her uncle Brandon had died for his sister, if Robb did the same… Lyarra was not sure that she could live. “Come now,” Lyanna sighed, moving around to the side of the tub and pulling Lyarra against her.

“I’ll get your gown wet,” Lyarra whined softly, all her stubbornness gone. However her aunt did not let go, she held tightly onto her as though she may never let go.

Eventually Lyarra did explain, and as always her aunt did not act as though she was being told a childish story; instead she paid careful attention, and at the end she thought hard for a moment before fixing her niece with a stare.

“You are right,” Lyanna said first, “the last time Westeros tried to pair Stark and Baratheon, it did not end well.” A tone of sadness crept into her voice, but she continued nonetheless. “But perhaps this is the world’s way of undoing my wrongs, by giving our houses a second chance at happiness.”

After their talk Lyanna helped Lyarra dress and brushed her hair away from her face. _I never liked the feeling of a thick wet braid at the back of my head_ she admitted to her niece, _but come, dinner will almost be ready and I have not seen my son in almost a lifetime._ Lyarra felt more shameful than she ever thought possible after that; her aunt had spent time with her despite Jon being in Winterfell for a matter of moon turns. Mother and son reunited, but only for a short time.

It felt odd as Lyarra entered the dining hall to find her entire family present. Baby Rickon was sitting with lady Catelyn and lord Eddard, whilst Sansa sat beside Robb and listened as her brother spoke with Jon across her. Bran and Arya were pulling faces towards their youngest brother as Lyarra entered with her aunt.

Lyarra ate little that evening, and held onto her youngest brother adamantly, glad to be away from the centre of attention as Lyanna and the rest of the family doted on Jon and Robb. Even Sansa seemed almost star-struck in her cousin’s presence. However when Lyarra met Jon’s eyes she felt a familiar feeling echoed through the pair; a desperate need to belong perhaps, or perhaps something else entirely.

Once the meal was complete Lyarra excused herself to put Rickon to bed in the nursery, with the door open she read aloud to him and listened to him talk about his day. Finally, when the boy was asleep she rose to leave only to find the prince, and her cousin, standing in the doorway.

“Do you always watch maids read to their charges my prince?” Lyarra asked softly as she blew the remaining candles out. Jon smiled and moved aside to let her out of the chamber and into the hall.

“Just my family,” Jon replied, surprising Lyarra, who had to look at him to see if he was being serious. “There’s such a contrast between the North and South, I like to remember it when I am gone.”

“When you are gone,” Lyarra echoed as they walked back towards the dining room.

“You should take care to remember what it is like here, after all, you won’t be here forever.” It almost sounded like a threat, so much so that Lyarra found her steps halt.

“This is my home,” she whispered back at him, feeling crestfallen. Jon turned and looked at her, a shadow crossed his face.

“Of course my lady, I didn’t mean–“

“Don’t apologize,” Another voice came, Lyarra felt herself stiffen as she recognized Robb’s voice. Jon looked across at his cousin curiously, seeing the annoyance on his face was surprising. In the past Robb had always seemed so at peace in the north. “You’re right Jon,” Robb added, addressing the prince by his first name. “She won’t be here forever, she would be right to take your advice.”

Lyarra briefly curtseyed to the boys and turned to leave, and before Jon could grab her arm she was striding down the halls. Robb watched too, his anger drying up as he watched her walk turn into a run.

Back in her chambers Lyarra crumpled just inside the doorway. _It isn’t fair_ she wanted to yell, to scream and beat the walls with her fists until they bled. Yet she had to compose herself, for her family name at least. A Stark was not an ill-tempered child, they were collected, and they were strong. Sitting up Lyarra leant her back against the door and tried to steady her breathing; after all tomorrow was another day.


	4. 4. Cassana

It had been one of the longest summers Cassana could remember, and surely the hottest for she had lived at Storms End for more than half her short life, and there the air was cooler and smelt strongly of the ocean and its many tempests.

Kings Landing was a very different place, nothing more than a dirty city it seemed some days; Cassana remembered that even before she arrived that she had been able to smell the stench of the city’s waste, the stench of its poverty had reached far beyond the city walls. However, she had grown accustomed to the smell now, just not the humidity. Even her finest dresses never lasted long, as they would always cling to her skin and make the heat evermore unbearable. Yet it had been one of the looks that Robb said he enjoyed most of her, seeing her hot and bothered with her hair pushed to one side exposing her neck and shoulders. If her cheeks were not already pink, they were sure to be soon as she thought of Robb and his suggestive grins.

Robb would be back in his home in Winterfell by now, no doubt waist deep in the snow. Summer never seemed to affect the North. Before he had left, Robb had given her a book to read of the Northern history. When she had flicked through it, she had come across a page on the wildlings and how the free folk were able to _steal_ someone if they chose too, if they were strong enough, fast enough.

Cassana had laughed at the notion –a concept which seemed foreign to her – and asked if she should be worried if a wildling woman would come into Winterfell and steal Robb away in the night.

“I’ve already been stolen,” he had told her softly, his chin resting on the top of her head. “I was stolen a long time ago, before we had even been properly introduced.” This certainly had her worried and Robb seemed amused as he looked down read the expression on her face. “When I had arrived at Kings Landing, no more than a frightened boy and I saw you through that window. You stole me then, or don’t you remember?”

After Robb’s departure, which had been some weeks ago now – Cassana had made a list of tasks she had been neglecting to do of late. She had not realized how much of her time was consumed on spending those secret moments with Robb, or at least planning them, and between those times she was almost always tending to the princess, Rhaenys and her ladies.

Cassana was no slave or maid, she was however a hostage. She had the rank of being a lady, yet still she felt as though she was beneath the Princess and the other ladies like Margaery Tyrell or Jeyne Westerling, who despite being her aunt in law by marriage, still looked at her as though she were a beggar from Flea Bottom.

 _Targaryen loyalists_ she thought irritably. _The war ended many moons ago and yet it seems we will forever be fighting our father’s battles._

Princess Rhaenys was as beautiful as her mother, Queen Elia. She had the grace and stealth of the dragon and was fierce and loyal, almost to a fault if the gossips were to be listened to. Rhaenys was also kind and gentle like Elia, qualities which Cassana had been thankful for, for if they had not been, her time in the Kings Landing could have been much lonelier.

The silver princess, Daenerys was only some years older than she and so she did not share the same bitterness towards the hostages as her brother, Viserys. Although Cassana never saw him much for he spent most of his time in Dorne with his wife, the princess Arianne Martell.

Since they were very young, Daenerys had been promised to her nephew Jon which seemed to be a distasteful match to the kingdom at large, however it had proved to be quite prosperous. Although they were never open about their relationship, Cassana was very perceptive and had caught the subtle affectionate glances that prince Jon and his aunt shared with each other.

Whenever Cassana caught their glances, whether they be in the Red Keep or the gardens of the palace, she always thought of Robb who was as much a hostage as herself, and the way their affection was forced to be a secret.

However, despite their similar situation Robb was never treated beneath the other members of court by the royal family, this was of course due to his blood relation to the prince, Jon. Where Robb was allowed to travel with Jon to Winterfell, Cassana had yet to see Storm’s end in almost five years, and her Father’s visits were more than rare.

As she replied to Shireen’s letter, Cassana wondered if her sister would ever be allowed to leave Storms End and visit her in Kings Landing. As much as she missed her sister, Cassana knew all too well the ridicule she would receive if she were to show her face at court. Her mother Selyse had shut down any hope of that ever happening before she could even address them to her father. Cass had always wanted her mother’s approval.

Stannis Baratheon wasn’t always a cold man. Robert’s Rebellion had changed not only him, but their house as well. The Baratheon’s were still a proud family, but they were always the subject of people’s mockery at Court and for that the rebellion was not something he never talked about, although he did seem enjoy Cassana’s curiosity. _They are not tales for children_ her mother would scold. Yet her Father always wore a knowing smile when he saw one history book or another, hidden beneath others or beside her bed each night.

Cassana was no fool. She knew her parent’s had no love for each another. Her mother was an honest woman; she saw no sense in humour because all jokes were just lies. When she spoke of marriage to her daughter and the role she had to play when it was time for her to marry, Selyse had told Cassana that her joy from marriage would come when she had sons of her own. _But_ y _ou have no son’s mother; does that mean that you have no joy?_ And her mother’s answer had been a simple _no._ Cassana had regretted her question that she let slip past her lips and scolded herself for being naïve and stupid.

She knew that if she married Robb, their marriage would never be like that. They would have many beautiful children together and she knew that Robb would never mind if they were all sons or all daughters. Their lives would be happy when Robb became Lord of Winterfell, and she his Lady. She never deemed it strange that she frequently fantasised of a place she would call her home and yet she had never set her eyes upon it. She dreamt of this life she couldn’t wait to live and yet she never thought about the notion of that dream never coming true.  _A child’s dream._


	5. 5. Lyarra

Lyarra stood leaning against the stables exterior as the sun began to rise, she had been unable to sleep the past few nights and instead had taken to coming to see the sun bleed its vibrant shades of orange, red and yellow into the horizon. Her breath misted in the cool air before her, and by the frost that lightly covered the dirt beneath her riding boots, she knew the day would not be cool once the sun finally announced itself properly.

Winterfell was special like that, Lyarra had listened to Robb complain about the heat of Kings Landing and felt her heart strings tug as she remembered that she too would have to leave one day. _Hopefully to go further North_ she let herself believe, recalling Smalljon’s face and his rough but gentle hands as he lifted her onto one of the horses on her last name-day.

Despite his name, Jon Umber was almost as tall as his father, the Greatjon, and just as like his father, he was strongly built with great broad shoulders and a thick chest. _Made for the North_ Lyarra had told him once, and when he had asked her she had grinned wickedly, _somebody will need to protect me when the wildlings come to steal me from my sheets_. They had been only children then, listening to Old Nan tell tales to them in what was now Rickon’s nursery. It seemed an age ago now.

“You are awake early,” the same voice that had come both of the two previous days said, with the same words too. Lyarra turned and looked at her cousin and smiled, Jon Targaryen, the Wolf prince who looked entirely Stark in his features. The only thing that Jon had that made him appear even remotely Targaryen, were his mannerisms, so crisp and almost _royal_.

“As are you, my prince” Lyarra replied, the same words she always returned to him. Close behind stood a member of the royal Kings Guard, his white cloak lightly brushed the frost covered dirt beneath him, but he did not look at Lyarra as her gaze ran over him. “However, I see you are well guarded, so I will not fret.”

Jon looked back at his constant shadow, Lyarra had been briefly introduced to him as Ser Garlan Tyrell, but the two had not shared words other than those of greeting. The Tyrells had fought on the Targaryens side during the war, so initially Lyarra had found it a little odd that one of their sons had chosen to join the Kings Guard, but according to Jon, Highgarden had two other heirs, so Ser Garlan would not be too missed.

During the previous day Lyarra had watched Jon spar with his cousins, Robb and Bran both lost spectacularly, Bran had been expected, but watching Robb lose to Jon had made Lyarra’s heartbeat fasten. They had been at it for some time when Robb had missed a step and Jon had taken his chance, if it could even be called that. The prince had landed a clean hit on Robbs collar-bone, it had been a heavy blow that sent Robb into the dirt.

If she and Robb had not been arguing at the time, Lyarra might have jumped the fence and gone to help him, but instead she had watched him try and laugh off the pain and then excuse himself to the kitchens, yet he had not come back. After Robb had left Ser Garlan had stepped forward and Jon had taunted him good-naturedly.

The Kings Guard had taken off his white cloak and set it down on the fence before Lyarra, their eyes never meeting as he returned to face the prince. When it had begun Lyarra had been far away, wondering of Robb and his whereabouts when the sound of the tourney swords had startled her back into the present. _He is fast_ had been Lyarra’s initial thought as she watched Ser Garlan move to and fro, his sword always clashing with Jon’s until it wasn’t, and instead it rested against the pink flesh of Jon’s throat gently, leaving the prince unharmed. Lyarra had no idea how long they had been at it, but both were now sweating, and smiling.

When Ser Garlan returned for his cloak Lyarra realized that she had moved to the fence and her hand now rested against the pristine white garment, surprised Lyarra removed her hand quickly, hoping that this pristine knight from the South wouldn’t notice that she may have sullied his pride and joy. Apparently the knight hadn’t noticed, and as Lyarra walked through Winterfell with Jon she wondered if the man hated Winterfell as much as his mannerisms suggested, or whether he was just uncomfortable being sent so far from his King.

“Do you think you have memorized it enough for another half lifetime, my prince?” Lyarra asked as they passed through the courtyard, their footsteps would surely lead them to the Godswood, as they had the past two days.

“I will never have long enough to capture Winterfell in my mind, no matter if I visited once a year or more. It is too great, for me to capture all of its details.” Jon looked across at Lyarra as he spoke and she felt a sadness in his tone, as though he was sorry he could not stay. Perhaps she was too.

“Perhaps after you marry, your wife would like to visit too, and you could both stay for longer…” Lyarra tried softly, and to her surprise Jon smiled a true smile when he looked at her next.

“I think she would like that,” he replied, his voice warm as they entered the Godswood together side by side.

Lyarra knelt beside Jon and together they prayed to the Old Gods, behind them Jon’s shadow stood stiffly and averted his eyes, no doubt believing he was somehow offending the Gods he kept by being at the place of another.

After their prayer Jon rose to his feet and took Lyarra’s hand to lift her to her feet, if only to be polite. Removing her hand from his Lyarra smiled and curtseyed deeply for him, glad to have somebody to talk to each morning before she went to face the rest of her family.

It turned out that the rest of her family was more easily appeased than usual, with little Rickon needing Catelyn’s attentions as he threw a tantrum, and Sansa happy to continue her study alongside Arya in the Sept with their Septa, Septa Mordane. Bran was out with Robb and the master-at-arms Ser Rodrick Cassel. Lyarra, after eating breakfast almost alone decided to return to the stables where she helped Arthur Poole feed the horses, despite his initially refusal he seemed glad for her help by the end of it.

Smelling of horse Lyarra went back towards the castle where she called for a bath to be run in her chambers whilst she went back into the kitchens, she had been far away at breakfast, ignoring Robb’s gaze as he glared down at her from the end of the table, and now her stomach grumbled in annoyance.

Running down the stone stairs that led into Winterfell’s kitchen Lyarra almost lost her footing before being caught. An apology on her lips she lifted her face with a smile to find golden eyes looking at her, a startled expression plastered on their owners face, regaining her composure Lyarra stepped back up a few steps and out of the man’s arms to assess the situation. Her hands had left soft dirt marks on the shoulders of his white cloak, only just, but she could see them. Ser Garlan Tyrell had regained his expression and although he tried to hide his annoyance, it was badly concealed.

“My apologies Ser,” Lyarra spat out quickly, unsure of herself. “I didn’t mean t –“

“What sort of lady runs around a castle in her riding clothes?” The Knight asked with a frown, but before Lyarra could reply he had slipped past her, leaving her wide eyed at his words, unsure as to whether she was offended or not.

For a long time Lyarra stood, looking at her grubby hands and wondering what sort of knight makes fun of a girl, for surely being six-and-ten meant she was still allowed to dress in the clothes that made her feel comfortable? Despite her conviction to believe that this was true, Lyarra doubted that the _lady_ Cassana Baratheon had even worn riding clothes, let alone had them tailored for her. She also doubted that Ser Garlan’s sister wore such things, as she was to marry the next King after all; and she was certain that Ser Loras Tyrell never wore such clothes, for he was a knight not a girl wearing clothes meant for a man. _What sort of lady runs around a castle in her riding clothes?_ The words rung in her head as she chewed on a cut off of cheese and made her way back towards her rooms to bathe, no longer hungry.


	6. 6. Cassana

When she woke to find the clouds concealing the ever-scorching sun Cassana decided to take advantage of what would be one of the few cooler days Kings Landing experienced during the long summer. Unable to think of anything less fun than trailing the princess Rhaenys and her ever-gossiping ladies, Cassana decided that today would be the day she would take out the gift she had received from her father on her last name day. The newly named horse, Durran, would no doubt be in need of some exercise to stretch his legs and see something aside from the stable walls. Although Cass had not quite mastered the art of riding, Robb had offered to teach her on more than one occasion. These occasions had always resulted in Robb in a fit of laughter, and Cassana swearing to never ride in front of him again. _Nonsense_ Robb would say each time, his strong hands against her waist as he lifted her back down to the ever-stable ground. _You’re getting better every time._

As she was not permitted to leave the Red Keep without an escort Cassana was forced to relinquish her privacy to two of the City Watch guards. Their movements shadowing her own, hands ever on their weapons as though they were ready to chase her the second she decided to run.

Arriving at the stables Cassana spoke briefly with one of the stable-boys, nodding as he spoke about Durran’s wellbeing and how he was exercised twice a week by one of the working boys. Grateful, Cassana let him lead her to the horse. For a long moment she just looked at the beast, his dark eyes seemingly reflecting his pessimism about today’s attempt at riding, especially without Robb there to guide the pair. Giving in to her desire to try without her usual partner there, Cassana took the horses reigns and led him outside of his stall and into the courtyard.

It took some time, but once she had finally gained the courage, Cassana placed one foot in the right side stirrup and tried hefting herself up over the horse’s side. This took a few attempts, but once she sat atop Durran a certain sense of pride ran over her. Slowly, once she had regained complete composure, Cassana gently urged the beast forward. They began at a slow trot, circling the almost deserted yard. _This isn’t so bad_ she thought calmly, the breeze had begun to pick up and the cool air exhilarated her. Moving onwards Cassana made her way towards the gates, not remembering to call out to her guards as she made her way towards Rhaenys’s Hill. She had read about the Dragonpit that had once stood proudly there until the Dance of Dragons had come to pass, it made her sad to know that the people of Westeros could be so cruel.

So distracted by her thoughts and the soft rhythm of Durran beneath her, Cassana did not notice that as quickly as she had left the safety of the Red Keep, a storm had also begun to brew. The clouds had darkened considerably and the wind had become so forceful that Cassana’s hair had begun to pull from its braid. Durran whined nervously as the guards began calling out to her, but the beast was too spooked by the weather, and despite Cassana’s alarmed calls he took off with her still upon his back. Not knowing how to calm the beast, Cassana tried to calm herself, hoping to channel her feelings into him as Robb said some horse riders could, but there was little she could do once he rose on his hind legs, and threw her off his back, leaving the Baratheon lady curled on the damp earth with pain jolting all through her body.

 _Pain demands to be felt_ her mother had once told her, when Cassana was a little girl and had scraped her knee running after her little sister. She felt it now, hot burning pain from the second she had landed on her side against the hard earth. She knew something wasn’t right when she tried to rise, her right arm wouldn’t budge, the pain made her vision fuzzy. Sitting up Cassana cradled the arm tightly against her chest, afraid of what would happen if nobody came for her – but somebody did. A man lifted her from the ground as though she weighed nothing more than a baby bird, fallen from her nest. The man began walking back to the Red Keep where a group of people seemed to be waiting for them. As she looked up shyly to see the man’s face, Cassana realized that she was being carried by Ser Jaime Lannister, the Commander of the Kings Guard.

“She needs a maester, she’s hit her head.” Cassana heard the knight say to somebody, who it was she could not tell as her body succumbed to the darkness of unconsciousness.

* * *

When she next woke, the pain in her temple was agonizing. She had been changed out of her riding dress, which was no doubt ruined now from blood and dirt. Her hand maiden, Karan, told her of the events Cassana had missed as the woman drew her lady a bath.

Ser Jaime had taken her to see the royal maester Pycelle, who had said that she had a concussion from the fall. Despite this, no life-long damage had been done, but Cassana would now need to take the time to heal as she had sprained her right arm. According to Karan the King and Queen had been there too, a chance encounter as they travelled through the Red Keep.

Apparently Karan had overheard some of their words too, between the King and one of his council members, the Tyrell lord, she thought he was, although she could not be certain.

“What was said?” Cassana asked her handmaiden as the woman washed her hair in the warm water.

“The man asked the King what was to be done with you, milady – I am sorry, I really should not repeat what was said,” the woman’s voice had lowered, as though the castle had ears that might betray her.

“No, it’s fine.” Cassana took the woman’s hand reassuringly. “I will not say anything, please tell me. I am sure that if it is of importance, my father would already know about it.”

Cassana shifted in the bath so that she could look at Karan properly, and take both of her hands. Her blue eyes were now looking into Karan’s brown, she had always had a way of coaxing information out of people, and her handmaiden was of no exception.

“The King seemed to be suggesting that he had plans of marrying you to Robert Arryn, milady” Karan’s words were met with nothing but silence for quite some time. “milady?”

“Thank you, Karan.” Cassana tried to sound passive as she turned back around in the bath. “You may go now; I can finish on my own.” Her voice was quiet but demanding as she spoke, a smile on her lips when the woman tried to refuse. “Go, I once helped nurse my sister when she fractured her arm in Storm’s End, please.” Once Karan had gone Cassana sunk low into the bath to think, the water reaching her chin.

Robert Arryn, son of Jon Arryn and Lysa Tully. If rumour was to be believed, Robert was a sickly little boy who would be no older than Cassana’s sister, Shireen. _This must be a joke. The Gods are mocking me for being a stupid girl who believed she could marry for love._

She laid in her bath long after the water had gone cold. After a time she sunk lower still into the cool murky waters, so far so that eventually her head was completely submerged. The world around her seemed to be silent there, beneath the water. Yet the voices in her head became very loud, so loud that she could not escape them. She thought of Robb and how their future together now seemed very far out of reach. She felt herself slipping and with it everything she held dear. But she knew she had to fight for what she wanted, and she knew she shouldn’t give up, not yet.

When she rose for her bath and readied herself for bed, Cassana had decided on the plan of requesting a council with the Queen in the morning. If King Rhaegar’s mind had been made up, she knew the only hope of changing it would be through the Queen. Cassana knew her father would never allow such a match for his eldest child, for either of them if truth be told and if the King pushed too hard, he would surely feel the fury of the Baratheon’s then.

After tossing and turning awkwardly for some time, her right arm cradled against her chest in a sling, Cassana finally found sleep. As she slept she dreamt that she rode her now lost Durran, galloping through the tempest until it finally began to calm, and in the distance she could almost swear that she heard a pack of wolves howling.

* * *

Cassana woke with purpose the next morning, after bathing and breaking her fast she made for the Great Sept of Baelor with two guards before she would return to the Red Keep and request a council with Queen Elia.

The Great Sept of Baelor had been one her more favourite places in Kings Landing, and it was more grand than the one she had visited during her youth in Storm’s End. Cassana prayed often in front of the statue of Baelor, which stood tall and serene upon its pedestal. Afterwards she ventured out into one of the larger gardens surrounding the Sept, hoping to have some privacy to pray away from the prying eyes of Kings Landing.

It did not take long before her private prayer was interrupted, for somebody had crept up and startled her with their presence. Yet her face softened when she saw that she was looking up once more to the face of Ser Jaime, who was quick to apologize for startling her.

“It was not of your doing, Ser. I’ve had a lot on my mind of late,” Cassana held the knights gaze, fearful of having said too much in that simple statement, but something in her made her want to continue further. “I wanted to say thank you, as well. If you were not there yesterday, I am not sure that anybody would have risked themselves out in the tempest to help me. So thank you, Ser.” Jaime gave her a kind smile in return for her words and motioned to her arm, which was in a clean sling, and resting against her deep navy gown.

“How is your arm?” The knight asked genuinely.

“Fine thank you,” she replied with a soft smile, “still tender, but not unbearable,”

Jaime looked back to the side gates they had both used to exit the Sept, no doubt to see if one of the princes of princesses that he had accompanied from the Red Keep were done with their prayer. Deciding that the other Kings Guard members must have the royal family under control, Ser Jaime shooed Cassana’s two guards away so that they could speak privately, and offered his right arm to her. Together the odd pair walked through the gardens until they were looking over the city.

Desperate to make conversation, Cassana mentioned the news of Lord Tyrion Lannister’s upcoming visit to Court. She went on to ask Jaime whether he was looking forward to seeing his brother, but it seemed the knight was not much for conversation, as his reply was short: _yes, I do miss him._

“Why did you ask to walk with me?” Cassana asked irritably, coming to a halt, “if you do not wish to speak with me?”

“Those City Watch guards are always trailing you, as is their job, but I thought you may enjoy the solitude.” Ser Jaime’s voice was passive, and he gave her a half shrug before leaving her alone in the gardens to ponder her thoughts.

For a while Cass remained alone in the gardens, frustrated at the lack of friends she had at court, despite knowing that Robb would not be gone forever but the prospect of marrying Robert Arryn loomed over her, making her mood sour. Eventually the two City Watch guards grew impatient of waiting for the Baratheon girl, and together the trio headed back to the Red Keep in silence.

Arriving back in her chambers, Cassana sent for an errand boy and had him deliver a message to the Queen chambers and to her surprise a response came back within the hour, and so she headed off to the Queen’s solar. Along the way she thought of all the ways that this could end, choosing to be optimistic, she decided that the Queen would help her, even if nobody else would.

Once she was admitted Cassana smoothed down the front of her navy gown with her left hand and curtseyed before Queen Elia.

“Rise, child. Nobody sees us here but us,” Elia said softly, her voice was velvet smooth and when Cassana looked upon her she was glad to see that the Queen looked well. Her dark hair was bound in an eccentric southern braid, whilst her full lips smiled, and the smile reached her dark eyes. “I am glad to see you have recovered enough to be leaving your rooms,”

“Thank you, your Grace,” Cassana replied formally, unsure of where to begin.

“Come and sit with me, it seems you are all too busy with your own lives to visit me anymore.” _You all_ Cass thought softly, wondering if she meant her own children as well as herself and the others she had seemingly adopted when they were forced to be fostered in Kings Landing.

When Cassana sat the Queen called for a servant to bring them tea. Whilst they waited they spoke of trivial things; the weather, the food at court and the gossip that surrounded one lady or another. By the time the tea finally arrived along with a tray of fruits and cheeses, Cassana found herself much more relaxed than when she had first arrived in the scholar.

“I hear rumours about you too child, much more innocent than the ones I hear of my own; but that is to be expected, people will always target my children because of their family name.” Before Cassana could reply, the Queen continued. “I hear that you and a certain northern boy have become quite fond of one another, is this true?”

“I –“Cass cleared her throat, feeling her cheeks become hot she felt she surely could not lie. “Robb is a kind friend of mine, and very dear to my…”

“Heart.” Elia finished for her, smiling into her delicate teacup. “I thought as much, but enough of my thoughts. I am curious to know what you have to say. Why have you asked to see me today, hm?”

“Your Grace,” Cassana began, unsure of how to word her thoughts. “Word has reached me that the King wishes to wed me to Robert Arryn, I just, I wanted to know…”

“The poor sickly boy,” Elia replied gently, “He is unlikely to live old enough to become a husband, and even less likely to ever sire children.” Cassana raised her eyes to look at the Queen, her gaze reflected in the Queens. “The King has expressed his interest in this match to a few of his councilmen, but your father would never agree. The match will never come to fruition.” Relief washed over Cass like a summer shower, and she felt herself smiling genuinely.

The Queen did not let her leave after that, instead the pair continued to talk, making Cassana wonder if the Queen too grew lonely at Court, but surely her children would see to her? If Cass had a mother as kind and gentle as Queen Elia she would never take her for granted, but then again, the royal children had never had a mother such as Selyse Baratheon.


	7. 7. Lyarra

She watched her father carefully, it seemed everybody did. Yet it was Lyarra that the lord Eddard looked back at, she was wearing a grey northern dress and her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment at being the focus of attention. _When Robb returns to Kings Landing, it has been suggested that Lyarra too should accompany him._ Lord Eddard had said, Catelyn had said nothing; her focus had been on Rickon, although Lyarra could tell she was listening, and this was a fragile conversation topic between the two. _Not for long_ Eddard had added gently, _just to experience the south, your cousin Myrcella will be there – Edmure’s daughter._ Lyarra didn’t fail to notice that her father left Cersei Lannister’s name carefully out of the subject, the woman had died bringing her only child into the world, but none could say that Edmure had been overly grieved, most were surprised that they had had a child at all. There had been rumours about the golden woman, about her and her brother, and so she had been married far away from Ser Jaime, and died screaming his name.

“You will only be there for six moon turns,” Eddard added, calling Lyarra’s focus back into the present. But she knew why she was going, perhaps the King had found her a partner, or perhaps he wanted a hostage after Robb was married and returned home, a Stark hostage.

“Only!” Arya piped up, complaining. Lyarra shot her a grateful look but the girl was too busy frowning at her father.

After the evening meal Lyarra went with her mother into the Sept of Winterfell. It was a pretty space that her father had had built for his southern bride, once inside Catelyn sat with Lyarra and took her hands. For a long time they sat together, silent as one prayed and the other watched, wondering if the Southern Gods listened half as well as the Old Ones.

“Don’t be afraid mother,” Lyarra said eventually, trying not to betray her own fear of leaving Winterfell for only the second time in her short life. “No southern lord is going to want to marry me anyway, I won’t let them take me away from my family. No matter what.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Catelyn replied, but her smile betrayed her. “You’re my first child,” she added softly then, lifting her hand to caress Lyarra’s soft cheek. “I wish you would stay a child forever.”

The pair sat together for a long while after, and eventually Lyarra rose and walked through the halls until she was once again alone and in her chambers. Moving forward she went to crawl into her bed when a hand grasped her shoulder, shrinking back she raised her elbow defensively and covered her mouth in shock.

“Lyarra!” Robb complained, taking a few steps backwards.

“Are you lost?” Lyarra growled, her anger rising. “You scared me half to death, get out!”

“I came to talk!” Robb sighed, not moving to leave. “It’s been days and –“

“Get out,” Lyarra repeated, “I have had enough of men belittling me for one day, I don’t need a lecture from you about how to act once we are in Kings Landing.” Her voice was a low hiss of annoyance, and Robb took a moment before replying.

“I’ve not come to mock you, Lya,” he said gently, “I’ve come to apologize.”

When morning came Lyarra was, for the first time, up after Jon. She had stayed up speaking with Robb for half the night, finally listening to tales from Kings Landing, and learning about Jon’s father, the King, and his family. According to Robb, by the time Lyarra and he made it to Kings Landing, the crown prince Aegon’s wedding would be fast approaching. It wasn’t that Lyarra had not heard of the betrothal between the prince and the lady Margaery Tyrell, it was more simply that word travelled slower to Winterfell, and even if it had been mentioned, Lyarra would have paid it little mind. By the time the sun was bleeding into the horizon Lyarra was only just waking, and had to half-run to the stables to meet with Jon.

When he saw her coming he was half surprised, while he was certain she wore boots beneath her dress, the dress itself was not that which she had previously worn to dinners. Instead she wore something he was more used to seeing his cousin Sansa in, the bodice was tight, pushing her breasts up to exaggerate there size, and the colour was beautiful. A deep green that reflected the surrounding forests and brought out the red tones of Lyarra’s hair; Jon had to clear his throat before he greeted her.

“What is the occasion?” Jon asked as Lyarra joined him, her cheeks were flushed but it did naught but add to the curious image that was his cousin.

“There is none, my prince” Lyarra replied with a secretive smile that he wasn’t sure he understood, nonetheless the pair walked their usual route through Winterfell and parted ways just outside the Godswood. Whether he imagined it or not, Jon was sure he caught Lyarra throw Ser Garlan a glance of annoyance.

Time went all too fast after that, and although Lyarra was never late for their morning walks again, Jon began to sense that there was perhaps something wrong with his cousin. She did not wear dresses each day, but more and more often she swapped her tailored riding clothes for something more lady-like, something he wasn’t sure he liked, as it almost seemed against Lyarra’s nature to be anything but his horse riding, tourney sword wielding cousin.

On one such day, as the pair walked through the Glass Gardens of Winterfell, Lyarra was talking of her horses and the bruises she had received the previous day when sparring with Robb when her voice trailed off and a frown creased her brow.

“I won’t be able to do any of that in Kings Landing, will I cousin?” Lyarra asked, turning to glance at Jon, her deep grey eyes were sad as she spoke.

“I do not know,” Jon replied honestly. “Whilst Targaryen women have fought in the past, I am not sure if Targaryen laws abide to the laws of the rest of Westeros.”

“Do the princesses or ladies of the red keep partake in any riding?” Lyarra tried then, her heart tight with the knowledge that if they did not, she would not be allowed to either.

“Both princesses enjoy horse riding, Rhaenys especially. She and Aegon have twin steeds that they sometimes ride together out with Rhaegar when he takes the men hunting.” _Rhaegar_ not father, Lyarra noted softly, but outwardly she smiled.

“Then I will have to hope that one day I may accompany them.”

Lyanna Stark waited for her son and niece that morning, sitting inside the Godswood beneath the Heart Tree with a soft smile on her face as she watched them walk in together. Both Jon and Lyarra returned her smile, and together the three of them prayed. When Lyarra was done with her usual pray she looked over to her aunt and wondered what she prayed for, whether it was a good harvest, a short winter, or just to stay with her son. She had been half a child when she returned from Kings Landing, Lyanna Stark, the woman who had started a war. Lyarra could not have been more than three, she did not remember the memories, but others words helped fill the space. Lyanna had been broken, not only because of her father and brother’s death, but the loss of her son, her only son, and the only child she would ever bring into the world.

As Lyarra grew she noticed very little of her aunts sadness, instead she was doted upon, and grew to love Lyanna as an extension of her family, not the woman who had almost single-handedly caused its destruction. At a certain point in time that Lyarra could not pinpoint, Lyanna was wed to Roger Ryswell, and although the two had appeared friendly when they attended Winterfell together, Lyarra couldn’t help but imagine that her aunt would have preferred to remain alone. These days, however, Lyanna visited without her husband with one excuse or another, but she did not seem to mind.

“I must return to the castle, I know I must imagine it but I feel as though I can hear Rickon crying.” Lyarra said suddenly, wishing to give her cousin and aunt more time alone together. On her way out of the Godswood Lyarra couldn’t help but overhear Lyanna’s soft words to her son: _has he been treating you kindly?_

On the way to the castle Lyarra couldn’t help but imagine that the King may not be all that the common folk whispered he was. A kindly King, well learnt and counselled – and even if he was these things, did that make him a good father? _What kind of father abandons his children for another woman_ a little voice whispered into Lyarra’s subconsciousness, _what kind of King would start a war?_ The questions continued to come until Lyarra was sure that despite the Kings reputation, he couldn’t possibly be a good man; after all, his father had murdered her grandfather and uncle in his madness, who could say that Rhaegar Targaryen would not follow his father’s footsteps?

The third last day before they were to venture off onto the Kings Road, little Bran Stark teased Lyarra about the way she held a bow and in return she dared say that she could beat his little arse into the dirt with a tourney sword, any day. Rising to the bait, Bran accepted her challenge and Lyarra grinned widely, glad for the opportunity to prove herself. Both Jon and Robb stood on the side-lines in case one or the other needed rescuing, yet Robb had seen Lyarra play at war a hundred or more times, and she had years of practise on their little brother.

It took her about five minutes to do as she promised, but when Bran stood up Lyarra didn’t forget to mention that he could beat her with a bow any day too, so perhaps they should both stick to what they know. This somewhat lightened her little brothers spirits, and when Lyarra put her tourney sword back she took a seat on some stairs and allowed herself to cool down and steady her heartbeat. She had been thinking a lot about how it would feel without being allowed to touch a tourney sword for the next six or so moon turns. Would all the work she had put into becoming as strong as her brother and father over the years, fade? Or would it remain? With nothing but a sewing needle awaiting her in Kings Landing, Lyarra feared that she would forget, and by the time she returned to the North, she would no longer be as she was now. That was if she ever _did_ return, as well.

“You fought well,” Jory Cassel’s voice reached Lyarra as the man crossed the court-yard.

“Not as well as some,” Lyarra replied good-naturedly, as she watched Ser Garlan sparring against both Jon and Robb.

“They’ve all had a lot more practise than you, in Kings Landing I expect Robb has one great knight or another teaching him, alongside the Prince.” Jory leant against the post beside the stairs and Lyarra looked back to him.

“I was taught by a great knight, your uncle, Ser Rodrick. He _is_ a great knight.” Noticing her defensive tone Jory couldn’t help but smile.

“Aye, you were, weren’t you?”

“Do you think the south could overwhelm the north?” Lyarra asked then, her voice soft as though fearing that she may be overheard.

“We have been before,” Jory replied just as softly, looking down at his lady.

“They don’t have dragons anymore,” Lyarra rose to her feet as she spoke, wiping the last of sweat from her brow she looked back to the men fighting. “And nobody knows these lands like us.”

“You’re right,” Jory replied careful, “but we aren’t at war anymore, and I doubt we will be again in your lifetime.” Despite his words, Jory wasn’t sure if he believed them and by the look of Lyarra’s face, she didn’t either.


	8. 8. Cassana

She had first met the blacksmith’s apprentice when she was ten-and-three, a feast was being held for Princess Daenerys in the coming days, followed by a tourney; her name-day had come, and she would be one year older. Cassana too, was to have her name-day in the upcoming weeks, but she knew that her celebration would be more in favour of the company of her father and few friends she had made at court. No tourney was held the children of traitors; unless one counted Jon Targaryen, Lyanna and Rhaegar’s son turned prince.

Renly Baratheon, Cassana’s uncle had called her to him in passing one morning, his Baratheon blue eyes sparkling with one form of mischief or another; Cass had come to expect that from him, and now that a tourney was being held she expected her uncle to be nothing less that exuberant for the next moon turn or so.

“Cassana!” Renly had called, waving his arms to her. His squire, Ser Loras Tyrell stood by his side and had been smiling at something Renly had said until he called for his niece.

“How may I help you, my lord?” Cassana had asked, making Renly laugh; he always had to remind her that they were family; she need not call him by a title no more than he expected his brother, Stannis, too.

“I have a favour to ask! Unfortunately it is a little last minute, but sometimes these things cannot be helped,” and with that he had put an arm around her shoulder and escorted her through the Red Keep whilst he spoke.

Apparently Renly had had a sword repaired down in the city; at the top of the Street of Steel to be precise. As the young lord had other things to attend to Renly entrusted Cassana to go retrieve the sword, of course a member of Renly’s guard would accompany her and that way they wouldn’t need to _hinder the King_ as her uncle had put it lightly.

The day had been beautiful outside of the Red Keep, and with no clouds in sight Cass had been happy to be outside; sometimes she felt as though court were suffocating her and she was glad to have some time to herself. She had at first intended to spend the day praying with Robb in the Godswood or visiting the Sept of Baelor; but he had been busy with the princes sparring, and despite his apologies it was hard for Cass to not feel lonely.

It took a short while to reach the shop her uncle had sent her to on foot; she was still not used to riding horses and she wasn’t prepared to bother the guard Renly had sent with her for help, so instead the two walked on foot. Truthfully, Cassana sometimes enjoyed such adventures, getting to see the people of Kings Landing kept her awake to the world outside the castle, and many of her troubles vanished when she was allowed to see the trials those just outside the gates of the Red Keep had to face each day. Arriving at the shop Cassana had had to stop to look at it for a moment, it was made of timber and plaster; and appeared larger than all the other buildings that lined the Street of Steel. The upper stories of the shop towered over the little street below. Standing before the shop were two stone knights armoured in red suits in the shapes of a griffon and a unicorn, as though standing guard to stop trespassers. However, if none of this impressed Cassana, the double doored entrance did; on it was a hunting scene carved from ebony and what she would later learn to be weirwood. Moving forward to take a closer look, Cassana found her eyes tracing the lines of the scene so hard that she hardly noticed when her guard pushed them open for her.

Once inside the master armourers shop Cass had to wait some time before the man came out to greet her, when he did he acknowledged her by her looks; so clearly Baratheon and escorted her into the depths of the building where they found a single man working on something that Cass could not see.

“Gendry!” The armourer, Tobho Mott, shouted at the man. “Lady Baratheon is here to collect her uncle’s sword, why don’t you show her for her to appraise?” The slight tone of mocking in his tone irked Cass, although she could not tell most swords from others, she definitely knew how to underpay a man without a second word and the coin purse in her pocket were suddenly feeling very generous.

“Yes m’lord” the apprentice, Cass took him to be, replied. Tobho Mott left them there, back into the front of the shop where a bell had just rung to alert the master that another customer had come.

When Gendry looked up Cassana felt her eyebrows furrow in confusion. Beneath the ash and grime that coated him, he looked to be a strong man, or boy. She wasn’t sure of his age – closer to Robb’s than her own she had to guess. What struck her most of all was the striking similarity he appeared to have to her uncle – not Renly – but the one that had started a war.

Deep in the depths of Storm’s End, in places not fit for little girls exploring, Cass had once found a portrait. It was hidden away with other things, books, scrolls, candles and letters that at the time had not interested her. The portrait had been of a man, tall and proud with broad shoulders and a thick neck. He looked like a warrior, almost like a King. When Cassana had asked her mother of the portrait she had received a serious scolding and a smack to match it. Later, after crying in her room for some time she had been interrupted by her father. Now none would say that Stannis Baratheon was a warm and nurturing man, for he was not, but he was a good father. He had taught Cass to read, to learn her letters and even encouraged her when she had begun to learn to play the harp. Stannis had entered his eldest daughter’s room and shut the door gently behind him; it was late in the night and Cass could guess that her mother was either praying or asleep.

“Why did you go down into the tunnels today?” Stannis asked seriously, to which Cass had pouted, her bottom lip wavering with the threat of tears. She had only been seven after all.

“Mother won’t let me do anything – I tried to go and play with Shireen today but she told me that I was not allowed to, I’m _bored_ here. Ever since Edric has been sent away I’ve been bored father!” Stannis ignored the mention of his brother’s bastard and sighed.

“Selyse tells me that you found a portrait of my brother,” Stannis said gently, “I should have burnt it along with the rest, but despite all his faults, he was my brother.” Cassana hadn’t understood then, why an old dusty portrait made her father seem so far away until she was much older.

Robert Baratheon, the one that nobody spoke of unless they were far from the ears of the King or his servants; although the master of whisperers had eyes and ears no matter how far you tried to run from him. Cassana had never met her uncle, he had died one year prior to her birth on the Battle of the Trident against the now crowned King, Rhaegar. Yet standing before her was his ghost, she was certain. _Clever, Uncle_ Cass thought when she remembered that it was Renly who had organized this; he had wanted her to see him, to meet the memory of Robert Baratheon.

“M’lady?” the apprentice interrupted her thoughts with an uneasy prompt, as though he had already spoken. In his dirt and sweat stained hands he held a sword for her to inspect. Gingerly Cassana took the sword and held it for a brief moment.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she looked at the blade; “the heat in here is a bit too much” she added as a lie. The apprentice agreed with an awkward nod of agreement and went to open one of the windows. Upon his return Cassana handed the sword back to him gently, careful not to accidentally cut herself or Gendry. “It’s beautiful,”

“Do you know much about swords, m’lady?” Gendry asked as he sheathed the sword, genuine interest laced his tone as he spoke and it flattered Cassana to know that he cared so much of her opinion; even if it was just because she was a paying customer.

“I am afraid I do not, but if my uncle has requested your work, then I do not doubt its value.” Cassana replied with a little smile, “and if it please you, you may call me Cassana.”

Apparently it did not please him, because each and every time Cassana returned to the Street of Steel with one errand or another for Renly or his squire, Ser Loras, Gendry always called her by a title. _M’lady_ she would later think in good humour, _the boy does not even use proper words, he speaks like one of them, but his father was almost King._

“Will I be seeing you again, m’lady?” Gendry asked on one of her visits, she had been sitting atop a dusty table and reading the histories to him, as though they weren’t in the middle of a workshop, and her cousin weren’t sending sparks flying brightly into the air with every strike of his hammer.

“Perhaps,” she replied, it had become a habit for them now, _perhaps I will return, my uncle always seems to have one job or another for me when it comes to seeing to you._

Each time Cass left, Tobho Mott’s purse was much heavier, and for a time this made her believe that her cousin would be safe; kept right beneath the Kings nose. Occasionally the thought that something could go wrong down outside the gates of the Red Keep kept her awake at night, but come morning Robb would issue her worries away with talk of one thing or another; yet Gendry never strayed too far from her mind, Cass saw him several more times before her uncle was ready to do any explaining.

“Come, sit with me by the fountain,” Renly offered one day when he had come upon her in one of the Red Keep’s many gardens. She sat gently next to him and savoured the tiny sprays of water that hit the back of her neck from the fountain. “Are you well?”

“Quite, thank you my lord. How do you fare?” Renly smiled at her but gave her no answer, eager to cut to the chase as usual.

“Never mind me,” he said quietly, “it has come to my attention that some may be aware of our friend down in the Street of Steel,” before Cass could object Renly continued. “If a certain dragon knew of the stag hiding beneath his wings, I do not doubt that there would be dire consequences, do you understand?”

Of course she understood, Cassana was getting ever more perceptive to the ways of court, and her uncle wasn’t exactly a riddle master. Plainly put, Gendry’s life would be forfeit once the King found out one of his old enemy’s children still drew breath. One that wasn’t a Florent, at least. Slowly, Renly began to stitch together a plan, and it became increasingly obvious that Cassana would not be seeing Gendry anytime soon, whilst eyes were still upon her uncle at least.

Finally there came a day where Renly approached Cassana, she had been meaning to ask him a favour ever since Robb had left for Winterfell two moons past now; a gift for her potential husband to be; a dagger with a direwolf etched into the handle on one side, and a stag on the another. Renly had chuckled at the idea, but agreed to it nonetheless; time was fast approaching and with the Stark’s in Kings Landing once again, there was a small chance that the bastard child of the would-be-king could leave with their party at the end of their stay. When Cass had asked how, Renly had taken off his courtly mask if only for a moment and she had seen the sadness there; the expression she supposed that came with losing a brother. _Lord Eddard saw Robert as a brother, and if there is any man who loved Robert more, I dare him to come forward. It is a small chance, but old Ned Stark might agree to whisk our friend away to the confines of Winterfell, and hopefully out of our Kings reach._

When Renly next sent Cassana to the Street of Steel it seemed her cousin had not been expecting her, Tobho Mott had let her in and pointed down one of the halls to Gendry’s work room, and Cassana had followed it without fear. At the end she had found him, but not how she had expected; he wore no shirt today, although Cass could hardly blame him. Kings Landing had just been through a storm, and now the heat had returned tenfold. Straightening himself, Gendry looked to Cassana for a moment before grabbing his shirt to wipe at the sweat on his brow.

“I feared you’d left me for good this time,” Gendry teased with a smile “m’lady”

“Not this time, I am afraid. Although being a hostage of the Red Keep doesn’t permit me many liberties,” Cassana replied honestly, although a small smile played on her lips too. “I had to tell a lie to be here with you just now, my guard thinks I am looking for silks. Is it ready?”

“It is,” Gendry said proudly, moving backwards to pick up a little case that no doubt held Robb’s gift. “I do not mean to be impolite, m’lady, but why does one such as you need a weapon like this?” he asked curiously.

“It is not for me,” Cass replied with a smile, opening the box in her cousins hand to behold the Stark direwolf snarling on the handle, gentle she turned the weapon to see the Baratheon stag. _It is perfect_ she thought warmly.

“Your husband, then? I was not aware you had one m’lady.” The sudden temperament in Gendry’s voice caused Cassana to frown up at him. “I apologize, but I really must return to my work,” he added briskly, forcing the case that held Robb’s gift into her own hands.

“Gendry?” Cassana asked curiously, uncertain at his behaviour.

Eventually it became apparent that the apprentice would give her no more of his time, angry at him for his rudeness Cassana tossed the purse of coins she had saved from various name-days to purchase this gift at his feet and stormed out of the building. Even if Gendry hadn’t made the connection between them, even if the boy was unaware of their relations, he should not be so rude to a lady, and Cassana _was_ a lady, a kind lady who deserved to be treated as she treated others: fairly.

 _I will never understand the minds of men_ she thought irritably as she looked around for her guard, but it didn’t matter. Robb never treated her so crassly, she would have to tell Renly that she could no longer help aid him in this mission; it was not her fault her cousin was a bull-headed brute, after all.

It did not take long for Cassana’s guard to find her standing at the edge of the Street of Steel, _I got lost_ Cassana lied, making sure to pout to make a point, the guard softened at that and together they headed back to the Red Keep. Shortly after arriving in the confines of her room Cassana was startled by a knock on her door; Renly Baratheon entered shortly after.

“I wanted to ask you a favour, Cassana. Before you speak you must here me out – I know that it is unfair to lay such things upon you, but I feel that time is running out for our friend. You’ve just seen him, no?” Cassana nodded despite her initial conviction to stay out of this business; for surely it could not end well. “I believe that Rhaegar’s councilmen have brought it to his attention that we may be up to something down in the Street of Steel and if the King lays even a single eye on Gendry he will know what we both know to be true.” _That Robert lives on_ Cassana thought sadly, suddenly her anger was gone at her cousin, and pity replaced it; _he did not choose to be born a bastard. If Prince Jon had been born and Rhaegar had died, then Gendry may well be where Jon is today._

“What can we do? No news has come from Winterfell –“

“Not entirely true,” Renly interrupted, and reaching into his jacket he produced a little letter. “This came with the ravens this morning from a certain Stark boy for you, one of my little friends dropped it to me before any others could lay eyes upon it. Do you trust him?”

“Robb?” Cassana asked, frowning. “Of course I do, I –“

“Don’t speak of it anymore,” Renly interrupted once more, “what happens between the pair of you is not my business right now, but if you trust him, tell him of our friend, perhaps he will tell his father. The chances are slim, but this may be the only chance we have to save him.”

* * *

Once Renly had left Cassana alone with her thoughts Cassana held the letter in her hand for a long time whilst she mulled her thoughts over. _He is family_ she told herself, but then again, he was the son of a traitor _but aren’t I as well? Isn’t Robb? All those who fought with Robert during the rebellion, they are all traitors, all their children suffer as I do._ She chewed her lip irritably before opening the letter and allowing Robb’s words to give her momentary respite from her woes.

_Cassana,_

_I should arrive in Kings Landing within the next two moon turns. Accompanying Prince Jon and I is my sister Lyarra, it seems she has been requested at court to find a suitable match, although I doubt she would find one in such a tame place as the Red Keep._

_I look forward to your reunion with her, it has been a long time since you have both seen one another and I pray the two of you agree._

_I hope you have been looking after my heart in my absence, as I left it there with you._

_Yours always,_  
  
_Robb._


	9. 9. Lyarra

They held a feast in Winterfell before the party of Stark and Targaryen was to set off once more upon the Kings Road. Lyarra spent the entire ordeal thinking of the first and last time she was in Kings Landing, she had been so much younger than, if her memory served her. Almost six long years ago now, the journey south had taken longer than the party had anticipated, and by the time they arrived at court a feast had already been held for those who had come before them. Cassana Baratheon, Margaery Tyrell and her brother Ser Loras, Arianne Martell, the Queen Elia’s niece with her dark eyes and fat cheeks that would later thin into a beautiful and angular face that was not all that different to the Princess Rhaenys’s.

The Queen’s brother Oberyn Martell came too, but the Martells along with the Tyrells were invited, not requested. They could have said no if they had wanted to – the North and all those who had betrayed the Silver King could not. Myrcella Tully was the exception, because her mother had been a Lannister, but Lyarra had wished she had come to court then, if only to help with the loneliness. Beside those there was also Domeric Bolton, Wendell Mandery and a Tallhart and a Glover boy, all northern boys who had to pay for their forefather’s actions. There were also two Frey boys from the Riverlands, a Darry and a Mallister. Despite Myrcella not being at court, Edmure had attended before her birth for one year to ensure his loyalty, but that was before poor old Hoster Tully had died.

Lyarra didn’t remember the rest, so many faces that belonged to countless houses, Royce, Redfort, Corbray, Waynwood, Hightower, Kefford and Ashford. The list went on and with it so did those who had come and gone from court, to be fostered for lack of a kinder word.

 She had only stayed in Kings Landing for a few moon turns, long enough to see the way Robb started to act around a certain Baratheon girl, and long enough for Lyarra to wish that she was not returning to the north alone. Jory had been there, five years younger but still just as caring towards his house, he had been a small comfort. Court made Lyarra itch, as though somebody were always watching; which they may well have been.

There was a particular day when the Hand of the King, Jon Connington had been walking with the Silver King and Lyarra had been in the gardens alone, frustrated that Robb was spending time with their cousin and not herself. The pair had approached and she had frozen like a deer caught off guard in the hunt, the pair had looked at her for a moment before she had curtseyed awkwardly and run off to hide in some dark corner of the Red Keep, her checks flushed with embarrassment and confused feelings. After all, Rhaegar Targaryen was the man who had caused the conflict that had resulted in Lyarra being sent to the stinking hot capitol.

 _I am no longer a fumbling child_ she told herself as she entered the Great Hall of Winterfell on Prince Jon’s arm. She escorted him as the eldest Stark daughter, behind them the rest of the Stark children walked proudly, Sansa in the deepest of navy gowns that complimented her complexion and beautiful clear blue eyes, and Arya in something her mother had made for her, something simpler but still just as comely.

The contrast between the two younger Stark girls was sometimes startling, but Lyarra was happy to fill the gaps between them; the three got on best when they were together, Lyarra praising her sisters for their differences, whilst simultaneously praying that the Gods would care for them when she no longer could keep their peace.

“My Lady,” Jon said softly, pulling Lyarra from her thoughts, she wore a velvet grey gown that was less drawing than Sansa’s, yet it compliment Lyarra perfectly, nothing suited her more than her house’s colour.

“Thank you, my prince” Lyarra replied with a smile that spoke apologies, she took her seat beside her brother and the prince and finally the night began.

Lyarra took time to dance with her brother and then her father to familiar northern tunes, he had been south for almost an entire year, he could not leave again, the rest of his family needed him more than Lyarra alone did.

Catelyn Stark had been strong in Eddard’s absence, but Lyarra saw her sadness when she read over letters, when she went to bed alone at night after a meal. Little Rickon needed his father too, without Eddard he had become an angry little boy, _because he doesn’t understand what is happening around him_ Lyarra had had to explain to Bran more than once when her brother complained of Rickon’s mood swings _he is still only four, how is he to understand all that has happened to put us in this position?_ She supposed it was unfair to expect Bran to understand what was going on to some point, but he was smart, and he was a Stark. _We will get through this_ Lyarra had told Sansa when she too missed her father deeply, always _we_ always _together_ as a family.

“May I have the next dance?” prince Jon asked Lyarra as she and her father finished dancing. Lord Eddard looked between his daughter and nephew and smiled, encouraging their friendship, hoping that whilst she was in Kings Landing, Lyarra would have at least one friend that was not her brother.

Robb had of course been to his father about his desire to marry the Baratheon girl. Eddard had listened hard, he had seen them together in Kings Landing when they thought nobody else was looking, but somebody _always_ was in that place, nowhere was safe. Eddard had said it was the Kings decision whether Robb marry Cassana, they needed his blessing so he would need to be advised one way or another, Robb had understood but had not brought the matter up again, as though he knew the answer already.

“Of course, my prince,” Lyarra replied, moving forward and taking Jon’s arm as she moved away from her father.

“You know,” Prince Jon began as he placed his hands gently against her gown. “You could probably call me something more familiar if it please you, my lady Lyarra,” _something more familiar_ she thought with a laugh, _cousin_ perhaps, but Lyarra liked Jon’s title, she liked that despite the mass effect the war had had all over Westeros, Jon had not been killed, Lyanna had not been killed, her family had endured, and although it may have done so under the reign of the almost-king Robert, Lyarra somehow doubted that Jon would have been allowed to live.

“Like what?” Lyarra teased as she put her hands upon his shoulders and the two began to dance.

“My name, perhaps?”

From across the Hall Jory watched his lady dance with the prince and wondered – not for the first time – if there was something between the pair other than their blood relation. And he was not the only one. Rumour spread fast about the women of the Stark family, it would seem; for many knew of the Prince and his cousin’s morning walks and prayers, and despite the presence of a Kings Guard member ever looming behind the pair, it could not be said that the Kings Guard were bad at keeping secrets.

“May I intrude, my prince?” Ser Garlan spoke courteously as he interrupted Lyarra and Jon’s light conversation and laughter. “I was wondering if I too, could dance with the lady Stark.” Lyarra couldn’t help herself; her eyes narrowed at the man who had only ever spoken to her in greeting and in insult. _What is he up to?_ She thought, moving from Jon’s arms and into Ser Garlan’s.

“One could be mistaken for thinking that you do not like me, Ser” Lyarra spoke quietly, but her words were to the point. Ser Garlan was quiet for a time as they danced until he chose the right time to reply.

“Perhaps I do not,” the Knight responded bluntly as he spun Lyarra around in a tight circle. “Although I can be forgiven for this, no southern ladies I have ever met act as you do, and you are a lady of the house Stark.” Lyarra fought hard against the urge to roll her eyes, and lost. “You won’t last very long at court with that attitude” the man added.

“What do you want?” Lyarra asked softly as she was drawn ever-close to the Knights chest only to pull back away in sync with the other dancers around her. “I neither want your advice nor asked for it, Ser.”

“I am a Kings Guard, it is my sole duty to defend the King, and by extension, his children.”

“If you’re referring to Jon, I would never hurt him. He is my blood too, after all,” Lyarra spat under her breath. Tired of feeling as though her own actions could not measure up to those around her, the Knight infuriated her with his entitlement. Did he not know how lucky he was that his forefathers fought on the winning side of the war? What did he know of struggle, he had chosen his life. “I have nothing left to say to you.”

Lyarra pulled away to leave but the knight briefly held her wrist to stop her from leaving, but when she looked back at him he released her. The rest of the night was uneventful, full of laughter and good humour but a shadow now loomed over Lyarra’s subconscious, reminding her that she was leaving on the morrow and that her family would not be going with her.

When the dawn did arrive, Lyarra had barely awoken. Her head ached with the reminder of the wine she had drunk the night before and her mouth felt uncomfortably dry. Nonetheless, she called her handmaiden and had her call for a bath, and whilst she bathed Lyarra ate what little she felt she could stomach; it would not be good to empty her stomach in front of the leaving party after all.

The entire Stark family was present as she was to leave, including her uncle Benjen who had arrived the night before for the festivities and to see his brother lord Eddard. Lyarra had always felt less connected to Benjen than her aunt Lyanna, but seeing the trio of Stark siblings together now made her smile; all that was missing from the picture was her passed uncle Brandon. Unable to get through long goodbyes without tears Lyarra briefly embraced every member of her family before turning her back and mounting Beron who had already been saddled for her. She wore light travelling clothes and a cart was being dragged by two mules behind the travelling party. In the cart were Lyarra and Robb’s few belongings alongside food provisions and other things they would need throughout their journey.

Just as she arrived at the gates of Winterfell Lyarra felt her heart tighten with emotion; her family waved behind her and suddenly Beron stopped beneath her and she felt like she could not go on; _I cannot leave_ she heard herself whisper internally. But she must, otherwise she would shame her family, and her honour could not bear it. Inhaling deeply Lyarra jumped off the side of Beron and walked back to her family at an even pace, once there she wrapped her arm around Catelyn’s shoulders and felt her body shudder with grief.

“I will miss you,” she said softly, a half whine rising from Rickon to his sisters left where he was being held in Eddard’s arms. “I will miss you _so much.”_

The first day had been a quiet one, but there weren’t many of them travelling after all. Arthur Poole had volunteered to come and mind the horses, and Jory had accompanied them with four of the household guard. Aside from that, the prince, his single guard and Robb accompanied Lyarra on what felt like a dooming trip. Her head ached awfully when they stopped at an Inn that night, even when she lay down in her lonely room the pounding did not stop. _Tomorrow is another day_ she tried to tell herself, but a little voice kept reminding her that tomorrow would also be another day of travel; and another day she would be pulled further and further from her family.

Days came and went mostly uneventfully for Lyarra after that, mainly she rode Beron, thought of her family back in Winterfell and feared what she would be forced to do in Kings Landing. Ser Garlan did not speak to her again as they travelled, but his last words played on her mind and she wondered if the knight had been trying to help her after all, not harm her. Jory had gone to Lyarra one evening as they made for an Inn and informed her of the rumours that had begun in Winterfell about herself and the prince Jon. _And they will no doubt reach Kings landing_ the man had added, to which Lyarra had sighed.

“What do you think of the rumour?” she asked Jory as they approached the Inn, the man looked across at her and smiled apologetically.

“It does seem a little suspicious, my lady.”

Afterwards Lyarra tried to distance herself from her cousin, a hard task considering the pair were travelling together and Robb was always including her in one conversation or another. However, by the time the party had passed Moat Cailin and the twins, Lyarra began to feel a little more at ease; knowing that they were likely to meet the Tully travelling party along the Trident in a matter of days. She had only met her cousin, Myrcella, on a handful of occasions. The latest meeting between the two was during Edmure Tully’s marriage to Roslin Frey, Lyarra had heard her mother’s comments about the match between a Tully and a Frey, but when she had the chance to finally meet the bride, she had been surprised.

Lyarra had not met a lot of Freys, but the ones she had met were not particularly attractive to the eye, Roslin seemed to be the exception. Daughter of Lord Walder Frey and Bethany Rosby, the girl was quite small, although she had only been sixteen at the time. Roslin was pale, pretty and had charming brown eyes that smiled whenever Edmure was around and Lyarra found she quite liked her. However, Myrcella had been less optimistic about the pair, considering Roslin was closer to her own age than her fathers, and with the chance of more Tully children, Myrcella had confided in Lyarra that she feared her father would love her less.

 _Love is fickle_ Lyarra had shrugged, _most loves, anyway._ Myrcella had frowned across at her _that is not very helpful._ Lyarra smiled and shook her head, _our parents love is the only love in the world that surpasses the others, and it is unconditional. Your father has loved you since the moment you were born, and he will love you long after he has met with his Gods._ Myrcella had almost smiled at that, if not for her new mother entering the room to request they come to dinner. _She always does that_ Myrcella said once Roslin was out of earshot, _she never sends pages, and she must always come to me herself._ Lyarra had reasoned that perhaps Roslin was trying to make the pair closer, but Myrcella was undecided if she believed that at the time.

“Cousin?” Jon’s voice drew Lyarra back into the present and she looked across at him tiredly, she had slept badly the previous night and she knew she wore it badly.

“Yes, my prince?” she replied, trying not to sound frustrated, no matter how much distance she forced between them, prince Jon was always able to fill the gaps between them in a single conversation.

“Do you want help down from Beron?” The question disarmed Lyarra, who only then noticed that she still sat atop her steed, despite all those around her preparing for another night at another Inn. She sighed, gritted her teeth and shook her head.

“No, forgive me. My mind is far away.” Despite her words, Jon moved forward and placed his hands on her, waited for her to turn to him, and when she did not he frowned.

“Have I done something to offend you?” He asked, his tone changing to the frustration Lyarra felt.

“No,” Lyarra said through gritted teeth. “But I am not some southern maid, nor your betrothed princess, so helpless that I need you to help me from a horse, a horse I have been riding for longer than I can remember!” She snapped, glaring down at him.

“What?” Jon asked, confusion spreading over his face. Lyarra encouraged Beron away and together the pair moved along the Trident and away from the travelling party.

 _Stupid, tired girl_ Lyarra scorned herself, her head ached and she wanted nothing more than to rest in her bed all the way back in Winterfell. _Stupid_ she repeated as she dismounted from Beron to let him drink by the river and eat some of the fresh grass that grew there. The sound of footsteps was quick to interrupt her moment of silence, which wasn’t all that surprising as she hadn’t travelled far in fear of getting lost.

“My Lady?” Jory’s voice came and Lyarra turned to look at him desperately, hoping that he understood without her words, but how could he?

“I apologize for straying from the party, Jory” Lyarra replied, her voice so tired and strained. “I want to go home, I cannot go to court.” Jory moved towards her and the pair sat together in the dying light.

“Why?” Jory asked softly, always the understanding one, always protecting her from trouble because of his undying loyalty to Lord Eddard. “If this is about the Prince Jon, once you arrive at Court you should barely see him. With the upcoming marriage of his brother, he will be too busy to trouble you.”

“Trouble me?” Lyarra asked in a surprised tone. “He does not trouble me, I simply…” _I simply what?_ She frowned, trying to remember what she was worried about. “I want to have no room for rumours” she tried, but even that felt heavy on her tongue. “I don’t want to be remembered like that,” _like aunt Lyanna,_ she thought guiltily, _I don’t want to destroy a Kingdom because I chased a taken man._

Even if Lyanna had not done that intentionally, that was how she would forever be remembered to those who did not know her, to those who would always smile upon the Targaryens.

“It’s just a rumour my lady, if there is no truth behind it then it will fade as all rumours before it have.” Jory tried to reassure her, but Lyarra still felt frustrated.

Together the pair and Beron made their way back to the Inn where Lyarra watched Robb order food for them. When she retired to her room that night, her head was full of nonsense. Despite her tiredness, Lyarra could not find sleep and much like the one before it, she spent the duration tossing and turning.

Rising before dawn Lyarra made her way into the surrounding forests to relieve her waters, having found the Inns bathroom occupied by another, afterwards she rose to hear footsteps nearby, and cautiously she made her way back towards Inn when somebody grabbed her wrist.

“What in Seven Hells –“She began, only to catch sight of a familiar face in the waning moonlight. “Prince Jon,” her voice emptied of its previous conviction.

“Why did you mention my betrothed? Why do you think I treat you unequally?” Jon asked, curiosity lacing his tone, his hand still hot on her wrist. _Why is he more interested in that than my absence from the Inn?_ She wondered cautiously.

“I was tired, my Prince. I spoke out of frustration, it was not my intention to be so rude.” Lyarra apologized, but Jon was not satisfied.

“Why mention Daenerys?” He frowned at her,

“I didn’t do it out of spite – I’ve only met the Princess once, I didn’t, I don’t know” Lyarra frowned back at him. “The words were just there, I don’t know why I said them,” she tried to pull away put Jon kept a hold of her arm.

“Is it because of what people have been saying about us?” Jon’s voice wavered in its conviction at the last minute and Lyarra looked away.

“Yes,” she replied bluntly, “I do not want those rumours to follow me south.” She was surprised at the guilt in her voice, but finally Jon released her wrist.

“You value more what others will say, than the bond between us?” Jon asked, and Lyarra began to shake her head for a moment, but then she wasn’t so sure.

“Perhaps,” she added to her previous motion, “why does it matter?” she cried then, frustrated. “There is nothing more between us than a few childish memories, would it not be better to leave things as they were, rather than have these awful things said about us?”

“Is it so awful to be associated with me?” Jon’s voice was so quiet that Lyarra barely caught the words, she looked at him closely, and his dark eyes pools in the darkness that surrounded them. _No_ she should have said, of course it wasn’t. Her cousin was a handsome man, he was a strong, and he was kind. _He is all the things that Sansa’s books describe the valiant Knight to be, but he is not for me, he belongs to another._ “No,” Jon said when Lyarra went to walk past him, he had her hand now, and it was hot against her skin. “Answer me, Lyarra”

“It would not be very _princely_ of you to force me to do things I do not want to, my Prince,” Jon searched her eyes for a long moment before releasing her.

“I had thought that family was more important to you than rumour, but I guess being a bastard doesn’t really make you family then, does it?” Jon stormed past her then, his words hanging between them almost violently. She had never considered her cousin a bastard, and it was not because of that that she did not want to spend time with him – how could he think such a thing?

The Prince did not bother Lyarra for the remainder of their journey south, and Lyarra was in equal parts thankful and ashamed. It became easier when Myrcella joined the party with her own guard from Riverrun. Lyarra was glad for her company, her beautiful golden haired companion could spin all manner of stories that could make even the men laugh loudly at the climax. Even the Prince, Lyarra noticed.

When long last the company arrived in Kings Landing Lyarra was ready for a long sleep on a soft bed and a bath. The smell of the city itself was enough to make her want to bathe, and by the time they reached the Red Keep she sensed the rest of the company felt much the same. They were greeted briefly by a group of men, Kings Guard ready to collect their prince. Jon did not say farewell to any of them as he went into the castle, no doubt to be greeted by his father.

Robb, Myrcella and Lyarra, accompanied by their household guard went to find their rooms as Arthur Poole acquainted himself with the stable-master and his boys.

“You look bothered,” Lyarra noted before Robb dropped her off at her rooms, he looked at her for a brief moment before a tiny smile crept onto his face. “Not all have time to waste of us, brother. I’m sure your lady love with see to you later in the day,” she teased, making his cheeks turn red.

“What about you?” Robb asked then, “Where is your love, or will you join the silent sisters?” Lyarra scoffed,

“I’d rather be a knight,” she laughed, to which her brother joined her. “No doubt I’ll be expected to sit before the King sooner or later this day, I expect he would rather a washed wolf, than a dirty one,” she added in way of farewell.

“No doubt,” Robb answered before leaving.

Myrcella had been left with four of her own guard some space down the hall in another of the guest quarters, and Lyarra wondered if they would appear before the King together, she hoped they would. As she entered her room she was greeted by a dark skinned girl roughly the age of herself,

“Hello,” Lyarra said in surprise when she saw her standing there,

“I’ve had a page sent to request a basin for you my lady, a bath should not be too far away.” Lyarra wondered if she smelt, by the girl’s facial expression she could not tell. “My name is Arael,” she added quickly, uncertain of herself.

“Thank you, Arael,”

When the bath arrived Lyarra awkwardly stripped in front of her new maid, and ignored the way the girls eyes traced the bruises and scrapes along her slender frame. She had been afraid that once she reached Kings Landing, she would not be allowed certain liberties, so she had sparred when they rested, and received her share of bruises from the activity.

By the time the bath was over the water was a murky brown, but Lyarra was clean and new again. Arael dabbed ointments on her scrapes and bruises but said nothing about them, and afterwards she helped Lyarra into new silk small clothes and a beautiful gown that had been left for her by some unknown benefactor. When she dismissed Arael, Lyarra looked at herself closely in the mirror. Her skin was less pale than when she had left Winterfell, the sun had browned her delicate skin and the freckles that ran across her nose and cheekbones were almost invisible. Despite this, her grey eyes were anything but hidden beside her new skin, vibrant grey against the soft tan of her cheekbones. Her auburn hair was braided expertly down her back, and Lyarra wondered if this was what she was expected to look like now, clean and expertly dressed, a stranger to herself.


	10. 10. Cassana

As the summer rains came pouring down about the Red Keep in the dead of night, the winds blew harshly against a certain lady’s window shutters, causing her to wake with a start; Cassana Baratheon squinted against the darkness and rubbed her clammy hands against the front of her night clothes, despite the cold of the night she found her forehead coated in a thin layer of sweat. As she sat there she tried to calm her breathing, her heart was racing as though she had just been running about the halls of the Red Keep itself; but she hadn’t, of course she hadn’t.

The dream had been pleasant at first; that was until it had turned sour, the feeling now left an awful taste in her mouth; as though she had eaten too many lemoncakes in one sitting. Looking over towards the window Cassana rose to her feet and pulled open the shutters, for despite the rain and winds, her room felt unpleasantly hot. For a long while she leant against the stone frame of the window and watched as the rain steadied to a drizzle, and finally the clouds parted to show the bright stars beyond them. Cass wondered how far away Robb were from her now, and if he were looking from his place to the very same stars that she now gazed upon.

She had been dreaming of Robb, that he had returned from the North and snuck through the Red Keep to surprise her in her chambers in the dead of night. She had been standing where she stood now; by the open window as he entered the room, his clothes were damp when he arrived and without speaking he had begun to take of his doublet. _Yo_ _u cannot be here, somebody will hear, somebody will see_ Cass had begun pleading, for she knew that Robb knew how improper his behaviour was, and his actions had surprised her. _I don’t care_ the dream version of Robb Stark had whispered, and when Cassana looked into his eyes, they were almost black.

A shiver had gone up her spine as she caught sight of his bare muscled chest, and her mind wandered, allowing her to imagine what it would feel like to have his body straining over her own. She turned away from him then and returned her gaze to the window, looking up to the moon as though to distract herself. She found she could not look at him, she couldn’t see him looking at her the way he often did and deny him what he wanted; for Robb Stark had her heart completely and utterly, and she would willingly give him her body, her soul, even her life without a moment’s hesitation, if only he asked.

Initially Cass had not heard him approach her, but she soon felt his warm breath on her neck and his arm lightly wrap itself around her delicate waist. He was standing so close to her, too close; he smelt like the earth and the rain. He smelt like home. The whisper of her name tickled the hairs on the back of her neck as Robb called to her, his lips only inches from her skin. Slowly he pulled her against his body so that she could feel his want for her pressing against her lower back. Cass’s eyes fluttered shut as his lips lightly brushed the skin of her neck, she tilted her head subconsciously to give him better access, and Robb obliged happily; kissing higher up her neck, his breathing sending tingles from the tip of her head to her spine. After a moment of caresses and light kisses Robb turned her in his arms and captured her mouth with his own; her hands flew up to his neck and rested about his shoulders. Despite the chill from his wet clothes Robb’s skin was scorching hot, burning hotter than any day Cass had ever experienced in Kings Landing. Her heart seemed to swell in her chest, as though it were ready to burst free of her ribs; she had wanted this for so long.

Robb guided her back onto her bed, and she felt as though she would simply come undone with the gentle pressure of his body atop her own. Faster than before, Robb’s kisses grew more urgent as his hand slid up the inside of her thigh, softly he stroked the skin, caressed it, until he gently parted her legs. His fingers found her small clothes there, and he caressed her centre through them with the lightest of touches. Cass’s body began to ache in a way in which she was not familiar with, and she felt as though she wanted, no, she needed _more._

“Robb –” she began, but her words were cut off by Robb’s movements; he had moved his hand beneath her small clothes and a single fingertip had begun to circle the little bud that throbbed for his attention.

Cass had found that spot on her own before, but she hadn’t dared explore it herself. Her mind was removed from her thoughts as Robb added move movement, his motions became increasingly faster, so desperate for her approval; her climax. Cass’s breath had hitched and she had looked away, almost ashamed as she began to come undone.

“No,” a voice came from Robb, but it was unfamiliar, not at all like his own. “Keep your face to me, don’t look away m’lady”

That was when she had awoken, upon seeing the face of not her childhood companion Robb, but her bastard cousin Gendry Waters. _M’lady_ he always called her, but she was not his lady, she was Robb’s and here she was dreaming about another man that he could not possibly know existed. Afterwards, as Cass stood standing by the window the dream plagued her. When she returned to her bed she could not sleep, instead she tossed and turned, frustrated and unable to quiet her mind. _What does this mean?_ She asked herself desperately, she knew she cared for Robb, and her feelings for Gendry were nothing more than a duty to her family.

When the sun rose the next morning the skies were so clear that she began to question whether she had dreamt the rain as well. Moving to the chest that kept most of her clothing after her morning bath, Cass dressed into a simple gown with little embroidery but spoke a bold shade of violet, she had been told on more than once occasion that the colour almost made her eyes appear indigo. After she was dressed her handmaiden Karan brushed and braided the sides of Cassana’s hair in a way that she knew her lady usually wore it.

The sound of horses and people talking down in the courtyard below caught her attention before she was about to leave her chambers, and moving to the window she gazed down curiously. A travelling party had come through the gates, and studying them Cass recognized familiar auburn brown curls below. Her heart beat so heavily in her chest when she saw that it was Robb and his travelling companions, and a small smile began to grow on her lips. _He’s come back to me_ she thought in relief, withdrawing a breath she had had no idea she had been holding. She felt as though he returned a piece of her she wasn’t aware she had been missing, and she knew then that she must dismiss the dream she had dreamt the previous night.

On a previous day, her uncle Lord Renly had told Cassana not to draw attention to herself, any unnecessary attention on either of them could have terrible consequences down the track in regard to their bastard friend down in the Street of Steel. Despite her initially displeasure, the pair had finally agreed that it would be best if she did not go out and welcome Robb and his travelling companions once they arrived back at the Red Keep. Although she felt guilty for not going to greet him, Cass knew that Robb would understand once she made him aware of the situation.

As she continued to look down at the party arriving Cass spotted two women entering the courtyard, once had golden hair that she suspected belonged to the Lady Myrcella Tully, and the other shared Robb’s colouring, making her Robb’s twin sister, Lyarra. Cass had only met the pair on one or two occasions when they had bene younger, and she noted how much they had changed since those times. She hadn’t thought much of what their visit meant, all she knew from Robb’s letter was that Lyarra was expected at Prince Aegon’s wedding, and that she was to consider matches for possible marriages here at court. After the wedding, Myrcella would travel to Dorne where she would marry the Queen’s nephew, Lord Quentyn Martell.

Lyarra Stark had been a beauty when she was younger, and it appeared that whatever Gods saw to her, had been kind; for she had a beauty that Cassana had longed to have, and although she knew it was not proper, she could not help herself. Lyarra had auburn hair that caught in the sunlight, much like Robb’s did, but her eyes were the same as Lord Eddard’s, the typical Stark grey. As Cassana watched her dismount from her horse and smile at something Myrcella had said to her, Cass also noted that she had a fuller frame than herself; fit for child bearing. All in all, Lyarra Stark appeared to be quite desirable, and Cass knew that she would be on the receiving end of many looks from the men at court. _I doubt she will have trouble finding a suitable match,_ she thought softly.

A few hours passed in which Cass spent her time assessing herself in her tall mirror and reading various paragraphs from various books, but her mind always lingered. She had begun to form a plan to try and whisk Robb away from wherever he may be in the Red Keep when a page had come to her door with a message from the Princess Daenerys, requesting that Cass attend to her private chambers at once.

Cassana had not always been close with the Princess Daenerys Targaryen, they had never had a whole lot to do with one another until Cassana had begun to spend time with Robb, who was almost always with the Prince Jon; Daenerys betrothed. Cassana and Dany’s friendship had blossomed through the two boys, and once the pair had had time alone together, they had both come to the conclusion that they had a lot in common. Although Cassana’s mother was alive and well, she had never acted as a mother to her eldest child and so Cass had felt her absence keenly growing up in Storm’s End. Daenerys Mother, and the once Queen Mother, Rhaella Targaryen had died some short time after she birthed her first daughter, succumbing to a birthing fever.

So Dany had grown up without a mother too, and with no feminine companion to protect or love; she had been a lonely child. A Targaryen, yes, but she had always felt as though she were only an extension to the family; having heard tales of her father and mothers relationship had not helped her form strong opinions of those who had come before her. Viserys was unkind to her; blaming her secretly for not being born earlier, and although Rhaegar loved his sister well, he had not the time for her whilst he was trying to repair a Kingdom. Because of these things, Cassana soon became close with the Princess, and the Princess grew to love her in return. Although, at the back of Cass’s mind she did not have a single doubt that if Robb had not pursued her, the Princess would never had looked twice at her.

When Cass arrived in Dany’s rooms, the Princess was already standing, clearly agitated. She moved forward and embraced Cass before offering for her to sit down at the table out on her private balcony that overlooked the gardens below. Cass remembered a time not too long ago in which she had been in these rooms, sharing time with the Princess and allowing her to braid her hair; it had felt to strange, hair braided by royalty. The pair had talked through the night and Cass remembered waking beside Dany in her bed, _it seems a lifetime ago, now._

“No tea, we will need something stronger,” the Princess told her handmaiden, who for the briefest of moments looked confused before she exited the room only to return some minutes later with a bottle of Arbor Wine, the contents looked a deep red but Cass knew that the flavour would be sweeter than that of the Dornish wines the Princess Rhaenys enjoyed and had shared with her before. “Thank you, that will be all,” Dany added when the handmaiden hovered. When the woman was gone she looked to Cassana. “Thank you for coming so quickly, Cass. Your dress is lovely, is it new?” Dany’s gentle lilac eyes looked over the violet dress before her eyes settled on Cass’s face. “You look lovely,”

“Thank you, I made this one myself,” Cass spoke gently while sipping at the sweet wine, she couldn’t help herself; it was already a hot day. “Have you seen Jon yet? I saw them arrive in the courtyard earlier this morning,”

“Yes,” Daenerys was quiet for a moment. “He left not long before I sent for you,” the Princesses composure wavered and she looked over the balcony for a long moment. “He is different than before,” her voice was soft and sad as she spoke, Cass took her hand in her own and studied her face, willing the Princess to continue. “He seems distant, far away. As though his mind is somewhere else… one someone else.” She looked back to Cass now, studying the girls face to see if she knew anything. “I heard rumours some weeks ago now, but I thought there would be no use in worrying myself over them. However, now that he is back and with the way that he has acted today I don’t –” she cleared her voice and averted her eyes back to the garden below.

“What were the rumours?” Cassana willed the Princess gently, she did not want to push her friend too far, but it seemed that there was more to this than petty rumour. As Cass waited for her to speak, she traced little circles in the Princesses palm, a gentle massage Elia used to do when Cass was upset as a girl.

“That he may be involved with his cousin,” Dany narrowed her eyes, and for a moment Cass wasn’t quite sure who the Princess spoke of. “Lyarra Stark, Robb’s own twin.” She looked to Cass and smiled sadly, “you would tell me if there was any truth to it, wouldn’t you Cass? You would tell me if Robb had mentioned such a thing?”

It was a rumour that Cass had not expected, and she knew that she had to treat carefully with her words now. In truth, she didn’t know if the rumour had an inch of truth to it, or if it was just made to cause trouble as so many rumours were. Had Dany asked her the previous day, Cass would have brushed off the notion of being attracted to one’s own cousin, but then again, after seeing the Lady Lyarra once again, it could be possible. Even so, even if Lyarra Stark had been as undesirable as one could be, Targaryens were known for marrying within their blood lines, after all, Daenerys was Jon’s aunt, and he her nephew; even noble lords and ladies had been known to marry their cousins outside the Targaryen lines. Perhaps there was truth to these rumours, however Cassana knew it was not her place to cause further stress to Dany, so she kept these thoughts to herself.

“I have not seen Lyarra Stark since we were both young girls, and even then I was so besotted with Robb that I never really had the chance to know her. This aside, the Starks are known to be honourable, and there is no honour in chasing a man who is already promised to another. If I were you, Princess, I would pay no mind to these rumours. Jon loves you, Dany,” despite her words silence hung between the pair and Cass wondered if Dany were thinking the same thing as herself: Stark’s may be known to be honourable, but Jon’s own mother pursued a man already _married_ to another, one could only hope that Lyanna Stark had been a wildcard.

“He loves me like he loves Rhaenys and Aegon,” Dany said after a long pause. “I do not know how to take Jon and make him my own, I suppose I should take note from Margaery Tyrell; that girl knows how to manipulate a man, although Aegon is the fool for falling for her act.” She chewed the inside of her cheek and sighed, her tone more serious as she continued. “I don’t _want_ to be like that Cass, I want Jon to love me on his own free will, as I love him. Why is that not enough?”

Cassana had no answer aside from a reassuring squeeze of her hand, and even after her visit with Daenerys and after she had sent a message to Robb to meet her in the gardens that night, the same question still lingered at the forefront of her mind:

_Why isn’t love enough?_

* * *

The moon was hanging elegantly in the night sky, illuminating the castle walls from the outside as Cassana made her way from her rooms to meet Robb in the gardens below, close to the Godswood. It had been so many moons since she had last seen him, the thought of seeing him after so long made her heart race with anticipation, and subconsciously her pace quickened. It seemed the _butterflies_ as Dany liked to call them, were having a party in Cass’s stomach, but they felt more like swallows, their beaks sharp as they tried to make for their escape as she waited for Robb in the shadows beneath one of the big willow trees outside the Godswood.

She first heard him when her gaze was set upon the pools to her right, the moon reflected in their wobbly surface. From her peripheral vision she could see him making his way towards her, his footsteps almost silent, trying to keep her composure Cassana kept her hands crossed across her chest tightly, as though she knew nothing, but she knew that he could tell, for a great smile had spread across her face.

“I have feared that you would not come,” Cass said softly when he stood by her side, his eyes ever on her face, studying. She looked to him then for his answer, he moved closer to her then, and taking her hand in his he brought it to his lips to kiss,

“Your fears are misplaced, as they always ought to be when it comes to us, my Lady,“ he smiled at her tentatively, he was teasing her, she noticed with a grin of her own. A frown creased Robb’s brow then and he continued, “Why did you not come to see me earlier? I worried when I did not see you this morning, it drove me mad, this waiting. I had thought something may have happened to you.” He reached forward then, and gently touched her cheek,

“I did not want to draw any unnecessary attention to us, Robb” Cass sighed, letting Robb drop his hand as she turned away, looking back at the moonlit pool. “I have spoken to the Queen about us, and if she has spoken to the King then he has yet to make his decision about us known; to me at least. I did not mean to worry you, I am sorry.” She meant her words, but they were still hard to say. _It is necessary_ she told herself, shutting her eyes briefly.

Robb reached for her then, his strong hands gently placed themselves on her hips and he pulled her closer to his body. When she looked up at him, Robb kissed her chastely, as though this were their first kiss all over again, as though they were strangers acquainting themselves for the first time. Cass lifted her own hands from her sides and felt her way up his body, his chest was hardened from muscle; but she had expected that, slowly her hands rose until she felt the hair that had begun to grow on his face that he usually kept clean, and finally she tugged at his curls playfully.

“Cassana,” Robb whispered, breathless at her touch, he cupped her face gently, never wanting to let her go from his grasp again. He kissed her fiercely then, and he kept kissing her for the many moon turns he was unable to. “I have missed you,” he declared when he pulled away, his lips touching themselves softly to her forehead; they lingered there for a moment,

“And I you,” Cass whispered back as she rested her head against Robb’s chest, her ear pressed against his left side she listened to his heart beat, glad that he was one again so close.

They spent a long time out in the gardens beneath the willow tree, reacquainting themselves, but they must return to their chambers before dawn. Just before Robb was to leave her at her door, Robb kissed her goodnight, right there in the middle of the halls. When he turned to go, Cass pulled him back and kissed him fiercely one last time, for which she was rewarded with a low laugh from Robb, a laugh of pleasure.

“I love you Robb Stark,” Cassana said softly, smiling at him as he went to go.

“And I you, Cassana Baratheon.”

Once Robb had shut her door behind him to go, Cass lifted her hand to her lips and felt where his lips had been, smiling to herself she finally felt at ease that night, with Robb’s return and the royal wedding fast approaching she knew that their time would soon come; and she would be free. Free from being a hostage at Court, and free to be the woman she longed to be. Cassana longed to live a life of peace, a life where she had a family, and a home where she could feel accepted and wanted. She wanted, most of all, to have the marriage that her parents had never had, and she knew she had been lucky to find Robb, for what they had felt honest and true. Cass craved to bear him his heirs, and to be the mother to those children that her mother had never been to her; she wanted those around her to live in peace. For she hoped that things would turn out in her favour, and if they did not, she would do all in her power to help those whom she cared for.

* * *

Days passed slowly since the party from Winterfell had returned. Cassana had been sitting in her rooms planning her day when she decided that she would go and visit Lyarra Stark in her own rooms; as she had not come across her once since the girls arrival at Court. It seemed the Stark girl spent most her time hiding in her rooms, for even the Princess had little to say of her; and Rhaenys loved to gossip about newcomers. But Cass found that she could not blame Lyarra for wanting her solitude, after all, the Red Keep was a suffocating place, but then again, had Lyarra wanted to meet with Cass, would she not have done what Cass now planned to do? However Cass took it in her stride, and decided against letting Lyarra spend her days in Kings Landing alone. _No one wants to be alone, truly_ she thought as she climbed from her bath and dressed.

As Cassana approached the wing of the Red Keep that Lyarra was staying in she saw the girl leave her chambers. She wore a plain grey gown, and her hair was braided simply down her back. _She is a northern beauty,_ Cass thought as Lyarra stopped in her tracks at the sight of her. For a moment she looked shocked and confused, as though she had not expected Cass to ever come waltzing towards her chambers.

“Are you lost my Lady, surely I am the wrong twin that you are seeking?” Lyarra’s voice was soft but blunt, and her eyes slightly narrowed, studying Cassana’s face.

“No,” Cass replied just as softly, “I am here to see you actually,” she studied Lyarra too, who was slightly taller than Cass and had quite a more imposing figure. Where Cass was polite and open, Lyarra appeared closed tightly, and agitated to having been stopped. She looked down at the girls feet and noted that she wore boots better designed for riding than wandering the Red Keep. “However, I see I have caught you at the wrong time, as it appears you are already heading out. I will come back –”

“Why would you want to come back?” Lyarra fired at Cass, interrupting her sentence. A tone of defensiveness had crept into her voice.

“To spend time with you,” Cass replied, her brows furrowing in confusion at Lyarra’s behaviour. She did not appear at all to share any of the qualities she found in Robb; “We have never really shared time together, I was also wondering if you needed a dress for the Royal Wedding –”

“I don’t need your time and I don’t need your false concern, now, if you’ll excuse me,” was all Lyarra said before she brushed past Cassana and left her standing alone and confused in the hallway.

Cass could not comprehend how she had managed to offend Robb’s sister so, and she would be damned if she would let one refusal get the better of her. So she waited for Lyarra to come back to her chambers. It had only been an hour or so, but Cassana had sent a page to go to her chambers and get the book Robb had given to her, if only so Cass could pass the time more efficiently.

“Why are you still here?” Lyarra’s voice interrupted Cass’s thoughts, her tone was cool, almost as though she was talking to a naughty child who hadn’t understood a previous scolding.

“I thought that you may like to accompany me on a walk, I thought that you might like to see more of Kings Landing.”

“You think too much,” Lyarra said first, she seemed to be calculating some equation in her head that she couldn’t figure out how to answer. “Is it because of your family name that you aim so high? Has attaching yourself to my brother and our family name made you feel strong, as though you are proving the world wrong about who you are? You’re a Baratheon, Cassana, not a Stark, and even if you do marry my brother, your name will always be carried with a sneer or an off putting comment before of the foolishness that came before you,”

“I’m sorry that you feel that way, Lyarra, but I will have you know that my intentions with Robb are honest and true. It would do you well to remember that.” Cassana left her standing there then, and felt her Stark eyes on her back as she walked up the hall. Whether or not she imagined it, Cass would later swear that she had seen a momentary expression of shock cross Lyarra’s face, as though she had not been expecting Cassana to reply; but she would have had to look back to know for sure.

Cass decided later on that Lyarra was a stubborn creature, like the horses she loved so much, and that the girl’s words had only been meant with the aim to get beneath her skin. _Well, she has succeeded_ Cass thought bitterly. There was a spring in her step as she walked, however, and the only thing in the path ahead of her was the blurry threat of tears in her eyes. _I am not weak, don’t you dare cry_ she fought with herself as she continued.

She had never felt like the other members of her family. Selyse, her mother, needed her father, and Cass could see that need from the age she was old enough to understand what it meant when her mother reached for her father’s hand, but he moved it away. Nor did Cass feel particularly like her aunt, Jeyne, who doted upon Renly despite the lack of attention the man gave her; always so busy talking with his squires or the Knights of Court. Shireen was needy too, although she was just a child, Cass could not remember needing a hand to hold after her mother beat or scolded her as a girl; although she doubted she would have found one even if she did look. However, it was her uncle Robert that she related to the least, the man who had started a war over his need for a love that had not been given to him; the love of Lyanna Stark. Cass was sure that she was not like _those_ Baratheon’s, she was not stern and serious like her father, but nor was she frivolous as her uncle Renly was. She didn’t want to be perceived by those around her as a woman who was dependent on a man, on anybody really; nor did she want to be seen as another Baratheon with too high ambitions, for she did not have them. She wanted a simpler life. She was Cassana Baratheon, she was born in the tempest and she had a mind of her own, dreams of her own and her biggest ambition was to simply be _happy_ and at peace with herself and those around her.

Her bastard cousin Gendry Waters was currently threatened without even knowing of it; it seemed that Baratheon’s had a knack for creating trouble, even without their knowledge. Cassana felt as though her uncle Renly perhaps depended on her hand in all of it a bit too much, why could her uncle not have simply whisked her away? Why was it up to Cassana to save the bastard? The questions followed her, but she had readily accepted the mission without needing answers to them; she was able minded and capable. Lyarra Stark was wrong, and Cassana would prove it to her, and anybody else for that matter.

* * *

 Soon came the annual hunting trip the King took some of his Knights and favourable lords on, and Cassana had too been invited, along with the Princess Rhaenys and Lyarra who had already began to plan the trip with their respective brothers. It had been a few days since Cass’s run in with Lyarra, and though she had not mentioned it to Robb, she declined the invitation, telling Robb that he should perhaps some time with his sister without Cass present. Against her best efforts, she was still irked from the conversation she had had with Robb’s sister, the girls rudeness still echoed in her thoughts. However, despite her disapproval towards Lyarra’s current stance on Cass’s existence, she decided to be the better of the pair and planned to have a dagger almost identical to the one she had had made for Robb for their upcoming name-day made. The opportunity also posed itself as a good chance to speak with Gendry Waters down on the Street of Steel. They hadn’t spoken since she had first picked up Robb’s dagger, and she felt as though she needed to see him, to make sure that he was still safe. Even if he wouldn’t talk to her, she was still a paying customer and he would need to set their petty squabble aside if he wanted to maintain his position as an apprentice.

The master armourer, Tobho Mott had opened the doors to her and pointed to where she ought to go, yet Cass did not need his direction for she knew the way to the back of the shop by now. First she knocked, and then let herself into the rooms where Gendry worked, at first she did not see him,

“What can I do for you, m’lady?” His voice was abrupt and came from behind her, startling Cass. She turned quickly and let out a little sigh of relief.

“You frightened me,” she complained, pushing a stray hair out of her face. “How have you been?” she added a little more composed, averting her eyes from his as she felt her almost forgotten dream jump to the forefront of her mind.

“I cannot complain, m’lady. Work has been busy, which means that my master is happy.” He walked passed her then, noting the bag she held in her hand as he leant against his work table and met her eyes. “And you, m’lady?”

“I have been well, thank you for asking.” Cass spoke casually but could feel the heat on her cheeks from her cousin’s gaze. Irritated she pushed on, “Speaking of work, I have another job for you, if you are willing.”

“Another gift for your northern Lord?” Gendry retorted, raising his eyebrows.

“No,” Cassana replied evenly, trying to sound patient. “It is for his sister, actually. I would like it to be the same as the one you previously made for me, almost exact. Except for where you inserted the stag, their ought to be another Direwolf.” She withdrew the dagger from her skirts and Gendry looked surprised that she kept the weapon on her person. “Are you up to it or not?” Gendry grinned at her, _of course_ the expression spoke to her challenge. He moved forward and took the dagger gently from her grasp, careful that their hands did not touch.

Whilst Gendry worked on the new gift, Cassana walked along the Street of Steel and towards another where she knew merchants sold their silks and fabrics for dressmaking. She had found a variety of pieces that would make for beautiful garments, but she eventually found herself drawn to a dark blue velvet piece detailed with silver embroidery. The sun had changed its position in the sky by now, and Cass knew that she would be due back at the Red Keep quite soon. Making her way back to Gendry she found him recently finished and he seemed proud to present the dagger to her. However, as she went to leave, her cousin offered to escort her out and through the streets. Their walk together was almost over by the time Gendry plucked up the courage to speak to her,

“I apologize for the way I behaved today, m’lady, I spoke out of turn, and I assure you that it will not happen again.” He picked up her hand gently with his own and kissed the top of it gently.

Initially, Cass was surprised. She had not expected the apology to be so frank, nor had she expected the gesture. She knew Gendry enjoyed her presence, their friendship may be new but it was a relief to have somebody unacquainted to the way of the Red Keep to talk to on occasion. Yet the look in Gendry’s eyes when he looked up at her made her shiver, it almost appeared intimate.

After his apology Cass muttered a reply of acceptance and thanked him again for his work before turning to take her leave. As she headed towards the castle she felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, although if she had felt the eyes following her steps towards the Red Keep on her back, she may have not felt so uplifted.


	11. 11. Lyarra

The Red Keep never slept, and neither did Lyarra. The heat hindered her at every step, she could hardly breathe, hardly move. The first night she had woken thirteen times to the sound of Pages scurrying past to do one task or another, for one lord or lady or even the Queen perhaps. Lyarra had met with her once now, the ever graceful Queen Elia.

She had been in the gardens with Princess Rhaenys when Lyarra had been summoned to them. _So beautiful_ had been Lyarra’s first impression when she had approached them. Rhaenys was singing to her mother and close by stood two men in white cloaks. The Kingsguard, Lyarra knew, and after searching their faces she decided that they were Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Arthur Dayne, so different in comparison; Ser Barristan was the oldest living Kings Guard member, yet despite his age the man still stood tall and proud, his long white hair kept neatly behind his shoulders, although his eyes seemed to portray sadness; Lyarra wondered what had happened to him to give him such a haunting look. She looked to Ser Arthur then and felt the man’s eyes shift to her own; he had deep violet eyes that seemed to follow the Dayne family as they did the Targaryen, and his hair was dark, sitting just atop his shoulders.

“Your Grace,” the Knight said softly, turning to Queen Elia. Rhaenys was silent as soon as Ser Arthur spoke, and together alongside her mother she shifted her gaze onto Lyarra. Suddenly breathless, Lyarra curtseyed low and remained in that position whilst the Queen and Princess accessed their guest.

“You may rise, Lady Stark” the Queen’s voice came, soft and kind. When Lyarra looked up she found Rhaenys curiosity mirrored in her mother’s eyes. _Do they hate me?_ She wondered, she had not thought of how the Queen would feel having a Stark female so close to what had almost been destroyed. “Please, come and sit with us;”

“Of course, your Grace” Lyarra replied meekly, unsure of herself. She sat softly on the stone chair beside Rhaenys, but made sure to leave a gap between them.

“We hear that you have not been coping well with the heat here in the south,” Rhaenys spoke now, the hint of a smile on her full lips. Lyarra felt her throat go dry, the Princess was the most beautiful woman she had ever met; more beautiful even than her Mother, than Sansa. Princess Rhaenys shared her mother’s dark looks, but she had a face that must have been designed by the Gods itself, paired with dark hair tumbling down her shoulders.

“It is true, my princess,” Lyarra replied, “I am unaccustomed to the heat,”

“Of course,” Queen Elia intervened, “I am afraid you will find no snow here, but the summer rains come and go as they please; and I have no doubt that you will see them at least once during your stay.”

They were neither cold nor warm towards her, Lyarra decided later on that evening as she sat inside the frame of her stone window. Calculating women, the pair of them, strong political minds, or perhaps they were simply cautious. Princess Rhaenys had said something about her husband, Lord Lancel Lannister, a remark that had made her mother half smile as though they were talking about a secret, a secret that Lyarra knew not.

One of the following mornings Myrcella arrived at Lyarra’s door, clean and dressed already in a gown of rose petal pink, when she entered her cousin’s chamber she looked around and frowned.

“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” Myrcella asked, ignoring Lyarra’s startled expression as she sat in her basin. Arael had brushed her hair out and she had just been about to rise.

“I have nothing to do,” Lyarra replied bluntly, “I would rather be bathing at dawn than sweating in some heavy gown.”

“Then wear something lighter,” at her exasperated words Myrcella went to the chest that held all of Lyarra’s dresses and rummaged through it until she came up with a sleeveless piece that stopped just above the ankle, Sansa had made it before Lyarra had left; “Wear this, and let us go explore. I’ve been couped up for days, and with my betrothed coming for the Princes marriage to the Tyrell girl, I won’t have much more time to spend with you.”

Her betrothed; the Prince Quentyn Martell. It was whispered that the match was made between the King and Prince Doran from Dorne because of the loyalty the Lannisters had shown during the war. Whether or not this be true; it was not all important. Princess Arianne and her husband Viserys would rule Dorne, as the women could inherit down there.

After she was finally dressed Lyarra felt slightly less nauseous than she did on other days. With her arms free of the burden of fabric she certainly felt cooler. Together with her arm linked softly in Myrcella’s Lyarra wandered down into the gardens below, she listened attentively to what her cousin had to say about her expectations of marriage and her excitement of the upcoming tourney to celebrate the marriage between the Prince Aegon and Margaery Tyrell.

“There is going to be a tourney?” Lyarra asked suddenly, surprise lacing her tone.

“Honestly, do you live under a rock? What have you been doing these past weeks if not listening to the gossip of court?” Myrcella frowned at her and Lyarra had the grace to look minutely ashamed.

“Mostly I just sit alone in the gardens or in my room, whichever is likely to have less people.”

“You’re ridiculous, aren’t you lonely? What on earth is Robb doing that is so important he can’t spend time with his own sister,” as Lyarra began to reply Myrcella continued, cutting her off. “Don’t answer that, I know he spends half the time sneaking about after lady Cassana, the King may as well marry them now, if they’ve not ruined one another, they’ve at least ruined her chances at finding another match.”

“Don’t say that,” Lyarra interrupted, “no matter what you think of her, Robb would not dishonour somebody like that, and especially somebody he cares for.”

“Cares for, lusts after, are you sure that he can tell the difference?”

“’Cella!” Lyarra cried, a smile forming on her lips.

“Don’t mistake me, I enjoy the lady Cassana’s company too, albeit rare when I find myself in conversation with her she sounds overall kind and generous, the Queen Elia’s nature has surely rubbed off on her; if not on any of her children.” Whatever that meant, Lyarra never had the chance to ask as a group of men were walking towards them.

The Prince Aegon was a handsome man of ten and eight, his hair was kept short, just below his eyes and his eyes were a deep indigo. Beside him walked Prince Jon, his black curls unkempt and his eyes the deepest of violet; Robb was next, laughing at something another dark haired boy had said, although the speaking himself was not laughing, and his eyes lay directly on Myrcella. Behind the boys walked two Kingsguard members, Ser Jaime Lannister, and Ser Oswell Whent.

“What a plain fellow,” Myrcella whispered before the boys were in earshot. Lyarra couldn’t help but agree, whoever this newcomer was he was quite short and his face was as Myrcella had said: plain.

“My ladies,” Aegon said with a grin as Myrcella and Lyarra curtseyed to him, “a beautiful day for a walk around the gardens, isn’t it?” He added, studying the pair.

“It is, my prince,” Myrcella replied, saving Lyarra the trouble.

“May I introduce you to my cousin here, Ser Quentyn Martell, and your betrothed, so it would appear, my lady Myrcella?”

Whether she had meant to let it be seen or not, Myrcella’s face dropped briefly, as though disappointed by what she saw before her. Lyarra could not help but agree with her cousin; where Quentyn was plain, Myrcella was beautiful; her hair spun gold and her eyes pools of the purest blue.

“What a pleasure to meet you, Ser” Myrcella said, curtseying once again.

“For me too, my lady” Quentyn replied, his face a mask.

“Come, my lady Stark, we should let these two acquaint themselves,” Prince Aegon said into the silence that followed; Ser Jaime gave Myrcella a long look before looking back to his Prince.

Before Lyarra could refuse the Prince he had offered his arm, and Robb gave her a pointed look. Taking the Prince’s arm made Lyarra’s skin burn, but she was unsure as to whether it was because of his smooth words, or of the hole she felt Jon staring into the back of her head. _Rumours with a bastard are unacceptable, but I suppose the crown Prince is allowed his mistresses?_ Jon’s voice spoke her thoughts and she wanted to pull away, to run back to her rooms, write to her mother and request she come home at once. Smalljon would be waiting for her, they could marry and move deep into the wilderness.

“My brother tells me you have a love for horses?” Aegon asked Lyarra as they walked out of the gardens and back into the stone corridors of the Red Keep.

“I do indeed, my prince” Lyarra replied breathlessly, she felt so awfully out of place. “What of you, Prince Jon tells me that yourself and the Princess Rhaenys have twin steeds,” Aegon laughed and looked back to Jon,

“It seems you talked of much, whilst you were away brother.” Aegon looked back to Jon whose cheeks had reddened. “Perhaps Daenerys is right to be worried, after all?”

“Stop teasing your brother, Aegon” a new voice came, and how it had happened that the King himself had happened upon the four without being noticed was astonishing. Lyarra felt herself remembering the scenes from long ago, a deer caught in the hunt.

“It is only play, father” Aegon replied with a grin that his father did not return. “Nonetheless,” he added, turning serious. “I apologize if I have offended you, Lady Stark,” Lyarra shook her head and tried not to fall to her knees from nausea, slowly she removed her arm from Aegon and curtseyed low to the King.

“Take a walk with me, lady Lyarra,” King Rhaegar said into the silence that enveloped the group, “I believe my sons have other places to be” he added pointedly.

They walked in silence for a long time, Rhaegar did not offer his arm to her and Lyarra was thankful. Behind them walked two more Kings Guard, Ser Gerold Hightower, and Ser Garlan Tyrell. Lyarra looked back at Ser Garlan once to find the Knight looking at her, but after that she chose to ignore him.

“My wife tells me that you are not coping well with the heat,” the King said softly as they walked together. “I admit it is hard to get used to, when you are from the north. But it comes, with time.” Lyarra looked up to the Silver King and wondered if he spoke of Robb or Lyanna, who had spent some time during Jon’s first year of life in Kings Landing with him. “I apologize for my sons’ behaviour, he does love Jon.”

“Of course, your Grace.” Rhaegar looked down at Lyarra as she replied and for a moment she felt very, very small. “Your Grace?” it looked as though the King was going to speak but thought better of it, and instead he continued on forward in silence.

“Rhaenys was wondering if you would like to join her ladies for a few days, perhaps to take the edge of your homesickness, but I more suspect that she is curious of your northerners, as all from the south seem to be.”

“Of course your Grace, I would be honoured.”

Whether or not Rhaegar believed her he didn’t say, instead he gave her a little smile and left her standing confused before a stone statue of a dragon.

After that day time flew for Lyarra, the Prince’s wedding approached quickly and with it, came the promise of a tourney. Despite being alone Lyarra found she began to enjoy her time in the Red Keep, several times she found herself walking with Jory and two of the Stark household guard to the Sept of Baelor, and along the way she had the chance to look at the smallfolk of the south. Other than those small adventures Lyarra mainly stayed to her chamber or the gardens in which she would often see Myrcella and occasionally the Princess Rhaenys. Sometimes the Princess Rhaenys would call for her, and Lyarra would trail her along with the other ladies, yet she never quite felt like she belonged there. Rhaenys was kind and smart, but when the other ladies tittered behind her, the Princess seemed a little uneasy, and Lyarra soon found her own behaviour mirroring the Princess’s; _you can’t trust anybody here._

From the window in her chambers Lyarra could clearly see down into a courtyard that many of the squires seemed to train in, and each day before nightfall she had a chance to study their movements; sure it was not as exciting as participating herself, but it was as close as she would get before returning back to the north. On one such evening, before she was to go out on a hunt with a royal hunting party the following day, one of the squires caught her watching. He was a young boy, no older than two or three and ten, atop his head he had a mop of blonde hair and suddenly he was waving at Lyarra. _My Lady, won’t you come down and speak with me?_ He called, piking Lyarra’s curiosity. Dressing in a pale gown of green with a slit cut out of the side so that her legs could feel the air on them, she left her room almost running, excitement lacing her mood.

Down in the courtyard the rest of the squires were leaving as Lyarra arrived, however by one of the tourney sword stands stood the boy who had called out to her, when he turned and saw her standing beneath the stone archway he smiled broadly.

“I had thought you may have declined my offer, my lady” the boy said, his voice happy that he had misjudged her.

“Now why would you think such a thing?” Lyarra asked him, raising an eyebrow, “is this not what all the ladies do in their leisure time?” the boy chuckled, and Lyarra smiled at him.

“You are the lady Lyarra Stark, are you not?” the boy asked, still holding his tourney sword. “Forgive me, I do not mean to sound intrusive, it is just that I have seen you watching from your window for a while now, and when I asked around, the only lady I could find that would be interested in such a thing was well,”

“Myself,” Lyarra nodded, “forgive me if my curiosity has distracted you from your training, my lord --?”

“Edric, my lady. Edric Dayne,” the boy answered, filling the gaps for her.

“That is quite the name to live up to, my lord Dayne” Edric smiled and went to hand Lyarra a tourney sword, when she hesitated he shrugged.

“Just because you can’t fight with a sword, does not mean you won’t die by one my lady. What is the worst people can say?” Lyarra frowned at him,

“They can say many things, a lady has few things that belong to herself; and her reputation is one.” Lyarra chewed the inside of her cheek “And why would you suggest such a thing anyway, we do not know one another” Edric shrugged once more,

“I’m curious to see if you can handle a sword as they say you can,”

After a moment of extra thought Lyarra took the tourney sword in her hand and measured its weight, not so different to that of the ones back in Winterfell she rolled her shoulders and stretched her arm out a few times. Practising swings through the air, when Edric suddenly came at her she was ready, Bran had done this hundreds of times in the north, charging at her as though she would not be prepared. The sound of the swords glancing together made Lyarra gasp, adrenaline ran through her and she parried with him, back and forth the pair went until Lyarra or Edric seemed to have the upper hand. Despite being away from this practise for some time, Lyarra had years of practise on this Dayne boy, and when his sword clattered to the ground, she was not overly surprised. However, it could not be said the same for Edric.

“Seven hells” the boy swore, looking at Lyarra in a new light. “Who taught you to do that?” he asked, curiosity lacing his words as he weighed her up. “Do all northern girls know how to fight?”

“My master-at-arms, mainly, and not all, but some. As I have heard it is in Dorne, are you truly surprised?” Lyarra rose her eyebrow once more and the boy smiled at her,

“You should practise with us,”

“This place is for squires,” Lyarra laughed

“Can girls squire?” asked genuinely, “you should ask, I would love to see the look on Podrick’s face if you disarmed him.”

“I do not think it would be looked upon kindly, if I were to return here Edric. However, I do thank you for the opportunity to stretch my sword arm,” Edric shrugged and smiled at her before they said their goodbyes.

 _How strange_ Lyarra thought as she lay in bed that night, her thumb tracing circles over a forming bruise on her left arm that Edric had graced her with. If playing at knight with Edric Dayne achieved nothing more than a momentary moment of relief from her loneliness in the Red Keep, Lyarra would be grateful, but as it happened, that night was the first she was able to sleep since the day she had arrived in Kings Landing those weeks ago.

She was awoken by a gentle knock on her door, Arael had come with her morning bath and breakfast. After bathing Lyarra dressed into newly made riding clothes, a long brown skirt that opened at the side for freer movement when riding and a white tunic that she tucked into the skirt, as it sat above her navel. That day she braided her hair herself, and Lyarra, when looking at herself in the mirror, felt once again at one with herself.

Beron was more than happy to be handed over to his mistress when Arthur arrived in the courtyard with both Lyarra and Robb’s steed. Robb had taken one look at Lyarra and a smile had broken across his face immediately, _there you are sister, I had thought you may have gotten lost in the dungeons of the Red Keep, it feels as though I have not seen you in an age._ Lyarra had embraced him and their foreheads had rested together for a brief moment of reunion. Once she was mounted she headed off, leaving Robb behind as he spoke to Arthur about his mounts new shoes or something simular that hadn’t interested Lyarra. The Princess Rhaenys caught up to her quickly, her steed a grey beast with black socks and a diamond upon his forehead.

“Good morning, my princess,” Lyarra said, inclining her head. The Princess smiled and returned her greeting.

“Are you comfortable like that?” The Princess asked, referring to Lyarra’s skirt. Lyarra shrugged and pointed to the slits that gave her legs free reign.

“I don’t suppose it is the most proper way to ride, but most of the men riding with us are married, old or my brother,” the Princess laughed at that, a high musical thing that made Lyarra shiver with pleasure; she was a wonderful woman, Rhaenys Targaryen.

“Your brothers and mine, but both are soon to be married, and then my cousin Quentyn, but I don’t suppose any woman with blood in her veins would throw her virtue away for _that_ Prince,” Lyarra laughed with Rhaenys, although she felt a little guilty afterwards when she remembered that her own cousin Myrcella was to marry _that_ Prince.

Rhaenys wore black riding pants and a white tunic of much finer make than Lyarra, but together the pair were happy.

“I’m so glad you agreed to come, Lyarra” Rhaenys admitted as they made their way out towards the forests surrounding Kings Landing. “Usually it is just myself and my brothers, the old men and the married,” she sighed, as though remembering some particularly boring ventures.

“It is my pleasure to accompany you, my Princess,”

“Rhaenys, please whilst nobody else is around. Being a Princess is fine and good, but by all rights I am a lady, after all I am married,”

“I suppose you are,” Lyarra replied, “my lady Rhaenys” she tried, squinting her eyes as though trying to adjust to it. Rhaenys laughed once more and shrugged.

“It will do, I suppose.”

Several days they spent out on the hunt, they royal party slept in Inns along the Kings road Rhaenys insisted that Lyarra sleep in her rooms, and although it was on the wooden floors, it was more comfortable than listening to the men snore and tell tales deep into the night. It appeared that Rhaegar was happy to sleep out with his men, and with him, four of the Kings Guard. Ser Garlan was one of those guards, _of course_ Lyarra had thought when she had seen him after she had shot a pheasant down with a bow, it had been a fluke but the look of surprise on the Knight’s face had left her grinning.

“What are you so happy about?” Rhaenys had asked as Lyarra dismounted and fetched the dead bird in her left hand. Lyarra hung the bird next to two others on her saddle before looking up at Rhaenys.

“I’ve got more pheasants than you now,” she said with a smirk, earning herself a playful swat from the Princess.

“Only because I am too busy talking!” Rhaenys laughed, to which Lyarra joined her.

“Scaring them away more like,” she added as she mounted Beron once more. “It’s more than that anyway,” she continued, desperate to share her victory with somebody. “One of your fathers Knights once said something cruel to me, and it has stayed with me.” She shrugged as Rhaenys leant in to listen more, she did so love gossip. “Proving that I can be both a lady and preform the actions of a man to him has become a game for me, I know it’s stupid but –”

“It’s not stupid,” Rhaenys objected with a satisfied grin, glad to finally be getting under Lyarra’s skin and into her private thoughts. “I think you’re flirting with him,”

“What – I, how can you think that –”

“Who is flirting with who?” Another voice came, and with it came two Princes, both having sufficiently more pheasants hanging off their saddles than both Rhaenys and Lyarra combined. Aegon grinned at his sister who gave him a look, “Have you finally found a man that interests you my lady Lyanna?” he teased, “or is it you, my sweet sister, but surely not, you are _married_ after all” Rhaenys rolled her eyes and looked to Jon who was looking at Lyarra curiously.

“One of the men has been teasing Lyarra and she has decided that for her revenge she should prove to him how utterly unnecessary he is in her little world,” Rhaenys declared, drawing a groan from Lyarra.

“Princess!” she complained, feeling her face burn red.

“Which man?” Prince Jon asked, not looking away from Lyarra’s face. Aegon looked between the two amused and then back to his sister,

“It’s between us girls!” Rhaenys laughed, moving her horse away and beckoning for Lyarra to follow her.

It seemed as though her cheeks hadn’t stopped burning since then, now she sat beside one of the campfires outside the Inn with Robb. She’d eaten one of her kills and found the taste less satisfactory than she had hoped, soon after she had left the Princess in the capable hands of her brothers and found herself with her own.

“Are you okay?” Robb asked quietly, his voice below the sounds of the other men’s conversations. Lyarra didn’t look at him but shrugged, indicating that she had heard him. “Princess Rhaenys seems to have taken to you,” he added casually.

“She sure has,” Lyarra agreed softly, “she’s very beautiful, it’s hard not to smile when she smiles, and laugh when she laughs. It’s infectious.” As though to prove the point, Lyarra found herself smiling at the memory.

“Then she is not the reason why you’ve dragged yourself out here to mope beside the fire with me?” Lyarra looked across to her brother then, and sure enough his face was drawn and he looked tired.

“I’m so wrapped up in myself that I forget you must have your own troubles, forgive me,” Robb shrugged now, a gentle smile gracing his lips.

“Of course, I will always forgive you.”

“And I you,” silence enveloped them after that and for a long time they stared soberly into the flames before them. “I met you lady love,” Lyarra said after the long pause. “She’s beautiful,” she added, and with a sigh she admitted something that had been following her for days now, “but I was cruel to her,” Robb look across at her then and studied her face.

“When?” he asked, watching the flames dance shadows across his sisters sad face. “Why?” he added, confused.

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” Lyarra tried to excuse herself but it was weak. “She came to me once shortly after we arrived in the Red Keep, offering gowns if I ever need them; I refused and brushed past her.” She winced at the memory, the crestfallen expression on the pretty girls face.

“That doesn’t sound overly cruel,” Robb said, sounding relieved, but as he continued to study Lyarra’s face, he knew she had more to say on the matter. “There was a second time?” Of course there was, Cassana was kind by nature, almost too kind, of course she would try to break ground with his stubborn sister.

“She came to me when I was heading back to my rooms and offered to accompany me down into Kings Landing, she was trying to be friendly.” Lyarra sighed and shut her eyes briefly, “I asked her if she aimed for your hand in marriage because it would help better her family name, I basically blamed her for her uncle’s actions before her. I don’t know why I am such a fool,” she looked across to Robb and they simply looked at each other for a while.

“What did she have to say?” Robb asked softly,

“She handled herself quite well, truly. Her intentions with you are _honest and true_ she said, she even called me by my first name _Lyarra_ she said, it was surprising. I hadn’t thought she would stand up for herself,”

“She is not who you portray her to be,” Robb answered, a soft smile on his lips as he looked back to the fire. “I wouldn’t love her if I thought she couldn’t survive without me, if I thought that she was weak I wouldn’t have pursued her.”

“Love?” Lyarra asked with a frown, a wave ran over her and she too looked into the fire. _Love_ she thought, _I wonder what that feels like._ Robb was looking at her again, smiling.

“Aye, love.”

When Lyarra was alone that night, walking through the camp she found herself thinking of the lady Cassana, her composed but empty face as she addressed Lyarra’s rude words, and in truth Lyarra wasn’t sure that she could have been as elegant in the face of somebody who had said anything about her aunt, or the others. She wasn’t sure if she envied Cassana or pitied her, having grown in the Red Keep away from her family, and with the pressure of needing a good marriage, that life must have surely been a lonely one to face. _But she had Robb, sweet kind Robb_ Lyarra reminded herself as she walked into the now quiet Inn, night had fallen long ago and most of the men’s songs had died as they fell to sleep. Walking up the stairs softly she walked past some of the guards before a hand gently took her wrist. Unfazed, perhaps because of her tiredness or far away mind, Lyarra did not jerk away.

“You shouldn’t wander around late at night like this without a guard, it isn’t safe,” Lyarra looked up into Ser Garlan’s face and found herself blushing, blaming the Princesses words she tried to ignore the burning of her cheeks.

“It is safe enough, after all, you and many others stand guard.” Lyarra replied in a whisper, cautious not to alert anybody to their conversation. As she went to go she paused and turned back at the Knight, “why did you look so surprised when I shot that pheasant today?” she asked, and Ser Garlan studied her closely,

“In Winterfell you told your younger brother that he was better at a bow than you, and you better at the sword,” his voice was a whisper that matched her own, “I didn’t know that you had been lying,”

The hunting party travelled back towards Kings Landing the following day, along the Kings Road Lyarra spotted something in the forest a few hundred metres away, turning away from the party she encouraged Beron along the grass until she was rather close to another horse, a white coated beast that looked as though he was quite lost. Dismounting Lyarra moved slowly to close the gap between them, he had on a saddle but it had dug into the flesh of his underbelly. Clicking her tongue she stood quite still as the horse looked at her, deciding she wasn’t that interesting the beast returned to eating the grass beneath him.

After removing the beasts saddle and handing the heavy piece to Jory, who had followed her off the road, she looked at the horses stomach and wondered how long he had been lost for, and why nobody had come looking for him. After she had removed the saddle she took out his bit and led him by rope back to the end of the hunting party, Jon and Robb seemingly having waited for her the pair frowned as Lyarra approached on foot.

“Is anybody missing a horse?” she asked lightly, averting her eyes from Jon’s, but it was Robb’s attention that startled her, he was staring at the horse with a fixed gaze of surprise.

“That’s Cass’s horse, Durran” Robb said in shock, at the sound of the horses name his ears perked up and Lyarra rose her eyebrows.

“Why in Seven Hells is he all the way out here, then?” she asked, her expression turning into a frown. “Is it so hard to send somebody to look for the beast? If Beron was gone for even a _second_ I would –“

“I don’t know,” Robb interrupted, holding his hands forward to stop her words. “She didn’t tell me he was missing,”

Sighing, Lyarra mounted Beron again and continued to lead the now gearless horse back to Kings Landing.


	12. 12. Cassana

The arrival of her parents seemed to be the talk of Kings Landing. Stannis and Selyse Baratheon had come to attend the crown Prince Aegon’s wedding to his betrothed, Lady Margaery Tyrell, and Cassana had never been so nervous. Stannis had visited Cassana in Kings Landing on a variety of occasions; name-days, tourneys, weddings, any reason to check that his eldest daughter was safe. However, Selyse had never come before now. It had only been Cassana and the Royal family that greeted them in the courtyard, and once Cass had been done with pleasantries, she escorted them to their chambers. It seemed Selyse always had something negative to pick at, whether it was their living quarters, the smell, or her daughters clothes for that matter. 

After a few days of her parents arrival, Cassana was encouraged by Daenerys to take her mother for a walk through the gardens, to show her more of the Red Keep would be polite, and perhaps their time together would be beneficial. _She is a guest here, and she is your mother, Cass. At least you have the opportunity to mend what is broken._ She knew Dany only meant her words kindly, that she encouraged Cass to spend time with her mother because her own had passed, but even so, the Silver Princess knew nothing of Selyse Baratheon.

Once being allowed entrance to her parents living chambers Cass joined her mother for some tea, and watched her quietly as she sewed. Selyse had not invited Cass to sup with her, and she knew better than to ask her for anything; when she sat down across from her she was met with a scowl.

“How is Shireen? I was disappointed to see that she had not come,” Cass said eventually, after their silence had stretched on for what felt like an age. Although her mother did not even lift her eyes as she replied; ever watchful of her embroidery.

“Your sister is stubborn, sinful and sullen. I fear for both my daughters’ souls,” she replied bluntly, a frown furrowing on her brow as she spoke.

“What are you talking about?” Cass straightened in her seat as she spoke; she had not expected the words her mother had spoken.

“I have heard things, things that I cannot ignore.” Selyse sighed, her voice bored as though she was repeating an old story.

“What things?” Cass felt like she was trying to pry an answer from her mother, why could she never be straightforward, _why must she always be so dramatic, so hostile towards me?_

“Things about you, Cassana. You here in the Red Keep, fornicating with that Stark boy, he will get a bastard on you if you are not careful,” her mother’s eyes flicked up and she glared across the table at her. “The northerners are savages, and nothing more. The same could be said for his sister, the little whore. It seems they are allowed out of their cages in the north.” Her mother’s hands were still now, her embroidery seemingly forgotten in her lap. “After all, that bastard prince is half a Stark is he not?”

“This is _enough_ mother!” Cass cried, deeply offended that her mother would utter such words to her. “You cannot talk about the Stark’s like that –“her voice stopped when she saw the look of outrage and disgust mixed over her Selyse’s face.

“Hold your tongue girl, I am your mother,” she rose from her chair then, and quick as a cat she slapped Cass across her right cheek, sending her spiraling backwards to the floor.

“What is going on here?” another voice filled the room, and Cassana looked up through blurry vision to see that her father had entered their chambers, unnoticed in the heat of his wife and daughters words. He looked between them for a moment, narrowing his eyes.

“Your daughter is –“

“Enough,” Stannis said in a low voice, his eyes flicking to his wife. “You will _not_ strike her again, Selyse. Now leave us,” for a moment it seemed that her mother would refuse, but after a moment Selyse collected her fallen embroidery and left the room without so much as a backwards glance.

When Selyse had left the room and the door had been closed behind her, Stannis made his way to where Cass still sat upon the floor and knelt before her. Reaching forward her dabbed at the blood on her now split lip with his thumb and looked at her closely.

“She should not strike you, you are not a child anymore.” Stannis said softly, removing his hand from her face after he brushed a stray hair from her cheek. “What is it that you were quarrelling about?”

“That Starks. She was horrible, the things she said of them… and of me, and even Shireen–” tears interrupted her speech and she felt frustrated that she could be reduced to such a condition by a woman who did not even write to her on her own name-days. “She is not my mother,” Cassana muttered as Stannis pulled her into a gentle embrace, slowly he drew his arms around her lithe frame and held her to his chest.

“Lord Eddard wrote to me some moon turns ago,” Stannis replied, pushing Cass’s words away and replacing them with something gentler, something easier to speak of. “His son asked him for permission to marry you. Lord Eddard wrote to me to discuss the match. He is an honourable man, despite whatever may have happened during the rebellion, and I trust him.” Cass looked up at her father’s face curiously, Robb had not mentioned anything of this to her. “If Robb is anything like his father, than he may well be worthy for your hand, just.” A smile broke out on her face then, at her father’s gentle humour. “But only if that is something that _you_ truly want, only then would I ever agree to it.” Cass was nodding before her father had finished talking,

“I love him father,” Stannis smiled at her, searching her face for a moment to see if there was perhaps a hint of doubt, of uncertainty.

“Alright then,” he said softly. “But remember, Cassana Baratheon, that you are my daughter and if this boy hurts you or steps one toe out of line, I will remind him that even this old Stag still lives by our family motto,”

“Ours is the fury?” Cassana asked, smiling truly now.

“ _Ours is the fury."_

* * *

By the time her father had escorted her back to her rooms Cass felt calm once more, although her cheek still stung and her bottom lip throbbed dully. When she lay her head down after her bath she fell to sleep rather quickly, and soon enough dawn had come and with it the birds from the gardens below sung an all too familiar tune. _A new day_ Cassana thought as she yawned, a sudden pinching sensation on her mouth reminded her of the previous day’s festivities with her ever charming mother and she sighed. Moving to her looking glass she frowned at her reflection, her cheek did not seem inclined to bruise, although a slight shadow had appeared beneath her right eye, and her lip now bled new droplets of rich red blood.

Karan went about her usual business of helping her lady bathe and dress before leaving her to her own duties, Dany had not requested her company today and it seemed that she would be spending her morning with Jon and her other nephew, along with the Princess Rhaenys. _It is a good thing_ Cass told herself as she finished painting her lips a gentle shade of red and made her way from her rooms; when Robb had arrived back from hunting he had brought back with him a somewhat unwanted surprise. It appeared that Durran had not been rescued during _or_ after the storm that had sent him racing off in a fear, and instead the beast had been left to roam the countryside.

“Why didn’t you tell me that something had happened? Hearing the tale from Prince Aegon made it seem that it was quite a big deal Cass,” Robb had sighed when they had been beneath the willow tree. “I wish that you felt like you could come to me about these things,”

“You were in Winterfell,” Cass had replied logically, “and it was _not_ a big deal, I promise.” She looked into his eyes paused for a moment. “I didn’t want to worry you…” she looked away, feeling guilty.

“Cass,” Robb reached forward and tilted her chin up so that she would look at him once more, “I will _always_ worry for you, even if there is nothing to worry about.” They had smiled at that together, then, and he had kissed her nose playfully.

Afterwards Robb went on to explain that it was his sister, Lyarra, who had found the horse, and his state had distressed her. _I hear that she has been impolite to you,_ Robb had added at the end of his sentence. _She takes her frustration out on those around her, but she does feel badly for it._ Cass had shrugged, doubting his words. _Truly, she said the way you handled yourself surprised her, and I told her that I loved you._ His words caught her off guard then, and Cass had looked up at him startled, she had not even had the time to inform her father that she was being courted by Robb, and he was declaring his love for her to his family? It gave her such a sense of pride and devotion that she was regarded so highly in his mind; as he was in her own.

“Cassana?” Robb’s actual voice interrupted her thoughts and Cass turned to see him watching her from the wall across from her chambers with a smile. “What were you thinking about that had you so deep in thought?” He wondered out loud, “hm?” he added

“I wonder,” Cass teased back at him, “how can I help you this morning, my Lord Robb?” as she spoke she found it hard not to look up the corridor at the guards that had no doubt escorted him to her chambers. _What is he thinking?_ She wondered.

“I have come with an invitation,” Robb replied, holding out a small scroll of parchment. “I do hope that you will come to my name-day celebrations with my family, I’m afraid I might not be able to enjoy myself if you are not around,”

“Robb!” Cass scolded, but she could not help but smile as he laughed at her objection to his free words. “I will think about it,” she added, grinning at him before turning on her heel and walking away.

But of course she knew she would accept, for she would have to meet his family eventually, if they truly were to marry one day. 

* * *

That same afternoon, the silver princess had requested Cassana’s presence in her private solar, which hadn’t minded Cass in the slightest, as she wanted the princess’s opinion of what she should wear to the festivities for Robb’s up-coming nameday. _And Lyarra’s too,_ she had to remind herself.  She knew Robb had meant what he told her about his sister taking her frustration out on those around her, but Cassana worried that her words were said just to pacify him and that Lyarra had still meant all the cruel things she had said. _Northerner’s are stubborn to a fault,_ Robb had once told her when he spoke previously of his family. Cass worried about his family then, and wondered if they would ever accept her, despite all the wrongdoings caused by her family and its name, like the Stark girl had said. Cassana thought of Lady Catelyn Stark and knew it took the Northerners time to accept her as one of them, and even then she was a Tully, who were never the subject of a failed rebellion. Daenerys had been her voice of reason when she had expressed these concerns to her, and the silver princess had listen to her friend contently.

“What if his other siblings are the same as Lyarra, and they do not like me? What if they convince Robb to marry someone like them, a Northerner, and not the daughter of a traitor’s family?” She looked to Daenerys and hoped she had the answers, but knew that it was all for naught. _What could she do?_

“Where is all of this coming from Cassana? I am usually the one to lay my troubles on you! Between the two of us, you are the stronger one… You did not carry these same burdens when we spoke only days ago,” Dany held her hand, waiting for her to continue.

“It’s finally happening,” she shrugged, her brows knitted together as tears threatened to fall from her eyes. “All this time I have been told time and time again that it will happen soon, and now soon is finally here.” Cassana sighed and looked down at her intertwined hands, “I suppose I never had these concerns because I thought that there was no use worrying about them. Today I told my father that I love Robb as he has told his family that he loves me. We are closer now more than ever to where we want to be and that both excites and terrifies me.”

“Why are you terrified?” Dany asked, prompting Cass to continue.

“Because it could all be taken away from me. Robb is all I want-“Cassana was cut off from the few tears that fell from her eyes. Wiping them away, she realized that she had been rude to the princess for she had requested her presence and not the other way around. “I’m sorry Dany, I’m being stupid. You asked for me and here I am being foolish,”

“You are anything but foolish Cass. Not everyone can keep it together the way you have. You’re stronger than you realize… I on the other hand, am not so graceful,” the princess’s voice trailed off. There was something that she was missing.

“What do you mean?” Concern laced into her tone.

“I am not so graceful when it comes to Jon. All these rumours of him and his cousin has gotten the better of me and I asked him earlier if there was something between the two of them…” Dany cleared her throat before she continued, “he didn’t deny it Cass. He said that perhaps there is something but he does not know of it just yet.”

“Dany,” Cass said softly, a gentle smile on her face “I’m sure that Jon didn’t mean it in the way that you think.“ Truthfully Cass did not know what more to say, but she wanted to be for the princess the way that she had been moments beforehand.

“He did not try to reassure me that I was the only one he had feelings for. I’m in love with a man who doesn’t even know how he feels. I’m the fool in this story.”

“You’re not.” Cass cut in, “no matter what happens, you and Jon are to marry and I know that he would never dishonour you like that.” She hesitated for the briefest of moments before continuing "Jon is Rhaegar's son, but he is not Rhaegar himself.” She felt bad for speaking ill of the King, but she spoke the truth and Daenerys knew that.

“I need to ask something of you and I know that you will not like it, yet I am asking not just as your princess but as your friend as well,”

“What is it?”

She hesitated at first, her lilac eyes wavering. “I need you to keep an eye on Jon with Lyarra tonight. He is going to the name-day celebrations and I want to know what happens between them.” 

Was it true? Could there truly be something there between the Prince and Lyarra that Cassana herself had overlooked? She had agreed to subtly keep an eye on the pair for the princess, though she didn’t know if anything would transpire between them publically. Cassana felt for her friend then and thought about how awful it would be to love someone who may return that love to you, but not in the way that you wanted. She knew that her situation was different to the princesses, but in a way it was the same, for if it was true, Daenerys was in love with a man she would eventually marry but his heart might not ever truly be hers, and Cassana loved a man that she might not ever be deemed worthy enough to marry, and he may never be truly hers either. They were both to face many hardships and she knew naught if they were even prepared for what came next. _Why is nothing ever like the songs and the poems we heard as children?_

* * *

That evening Cassana eventually decided on a simple pastel dress and wore her hair in a northern style she thought the Stark’s would appreciate. Robb had told her once that he liked her hair best when it was out, he said it reminded him of the way his mother and sisters wore their hair back at Winterfell. She had been all finished by the time Robb had knocked on her door, ready to escort her to the little feast. _He looks so handsome_ , she noted as he stood in front of her with his fine clothes on, she assumed that they were new. His auburn curls were quite tame and not as messy as they usually were and he had even made the effort to clean up his beard. _For the Royal wedding no doubt._ Cassana touched the little scruff that still tickled her finger tips, and smiled as she rested her forehead against his. It was in these quiet private moments she loved the most when she was with Robb, and she feared that that this was all they would ever be; moments. But if that were the case, she would be happy for it. Because she would rather have experienced this love in those little moments then to never have loved him at all. _Why were the Gods so cruel?_


End file.
